


Night Shift

by ghostbunny



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Dialogue Heavy, Eventual Smut, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hawke (Dragon Age) Has a Twin, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mage (Dragon Age) Rights, POV Alternating, Pining, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love, Vampire Fenris, Vampire Hunter Hawke, but not between the main pairings, how have i never given this an angst tag before?, lots of messy feelings in general, there's a lot of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:26:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 166,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23140495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostbunny/pseuds/ghostbunny
Summary: Fenris is a vampire on the run from his former master. He finds himself in Kirkwall, where one night he encounters Marian Hawke: the city's resident vampire hunter. Naturally, she tries to kill him. Luckily for both of them, she fails at that and Fenris, rather than killing her, makes his escape. A week or so later, Marian surprises everyone involved by tracking him down and, instead of trying for round two, offers to recruit him into her group of monster-fighting misfits.Skip forward a bit and Marian's absentee brother Garrett has become suspiciously less absent ever since meeting the group's rebel mage healer, Anders, and agreeing to help him locate someone from his past. Then Marian strikes up a deal with Fenris that involves working against a powerful Tevinter vampire. Add to that the day-to-day life of a predominantly mage household in a city that really doesn't like mages, and things sort of spiral out of control from there...
Relationships: Anders/Karl Thekla, Anders/Male Hawke, Fenris/Female Hawke
Comments: 372
Kudos: 135





	1. Welcome to the Hellmou-I mean Kirkwall, welcome to Kirkwall!

**Author's Note:**

> When I first started writing fic for DA2 last year I remember being excited by the fresh start, the opportunity to try something new. It took me two new stories written over a few months before I thought to myself "You know what I miss writing? Vampires." And so this fic was born...
> 
> I have a rough draft finished so far and I'm not sure if I can guarantee weekly updates but that's what I'm going to aim for anyway. Some chapters just need a lot more editing than others and so might end up taking longer. The main pairings (through the power of the Twin AU) are Fenhawke and Handers with (hopefully) equal focus on both. But the Kanders is tagged because that's definitely there too. The Modern Thedas setting is more an aesthetic choice than anything else. I've changed quite a few things but there are a lot of canon elements that seemed to fit well enough as they are. It might seem a little odd to start with the way I decided to write the vampires in this universe but hopefully it'll be interesting! 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy the story. I'd love to hear what you think!

It doesn't take Fenris long to learn that Kirkwall is a volatile place. The veil is weak here. He has been able to feel it for weeks now. Even long before he took his first steps into the city. It’s a buzz under his skin; the lyrium there reacting to the call of the fade. It might well have been the very thing that drew him here in the first place.

Well, that and the Demon. 

Fenris knows better, has learned better than to give the Demon what it wants. But sometimes survival requires compromise. This city, filled to bursting with warm mortal bodies, along with its slaver gangs, its creatures of the night and its tenuous divide between the waking world and the fade – it’s exactly what the Demon craves. What all such demons crave. And, as such, it is where Fenris needs to be.

He will never blend in. With his strange white hair and his lyrium brands, that is not an option for him. But here, in this Maker-forsaken city, he thinks maybe he might just go unnoticed. Just another one of the monsters here. For a time, at least.

It’s those other monsters he watches for now. He is positioned against one of the buildings on a dilapidated backstreet, just so that he can see the opening out into the alley opposite. The creatures inside are human, but sometimes monsters take that form too. No demon required. Just greed, or desperation. In any case, Fenris can’t afford to be picky. The only way to control the Demon is to keep it sated. Keep it quiet. For that purpose, the slavers in the building opposite will do just fine. 

He’s been keeping an eye on this place for several nights now and concluded that there are too many involved in this gang to risk attacking them at their base. Stronger and faster he may be, but in their numbers the mortals might just take him down if he isn’t careful. So that’s what he plans to be.

He’s timed it well. He has his concerns that lingering too long near the doorway of the run-down pub across the road from the slaver’s hide-out may cause suspicion but he hasn’t been waiting any more than ten minutes when the door he’s been watching opens. Five people emerge. Four men, one woman. All human mortals. A slaver’s employer will always be a vampire but slavers themselves are mortal more often than not. Less chance that way of their merchandise ending up a snack for the road. 

Five is an easy number. And Fenris has no sense of there being any mages within the group. A mage would complicate things. It’s a mistake he’s already learnt from since coming to Kirkwall. Back in Tevinter, a mage won’t often need to stoop to abducting people for coin. Here, mages are more desperate. Fenris has learned to be careful when his lyrium reacts to the presence of magic in any group he chooses to follow. Even if that only means taking down the mage first.  
Tonight’s group should prove no trouble for him. The Demon thinks five is a terrible waste, as Fenris only needs the one. Fenris believes that the only good slaver is a dead one and he will not mourn the spares. 

He waits and then follows at a distance, head down, hood pulled low to cover the white of his hair. 

They lead him along the streets of the Kirkwall Docks – not so close to the waterfront as to glimpse the infamous Gallows but close enough that Fenris can smell the salt on the air along with the scent of fish that always makes his stomach turn. The area they come to before long is quiet; boarded up warehouses. Back alleys that offer little light. They’ve led him here on purpose. Fools that know not what stalks them.

The first one charges at him and Fenris takes him down in a swift, fluid movement, snapping his neck before letting him drop. 

The woman is next. She’s drawn a knife from somewhere within her coat. Clearly, she hasn’t caught on quite yet. The metal blade will do him little harm, should it meet its target at all. Fenris does not allow it to get that far. He meets his assailant half way, gabbing her wrist, twisting the knife from her grip and tossing it away. Best not to spill any blood before it’s absolutely necessary. The woman cries out as Fenris’ grip crushes her fingers but the sound is cut short as he snaps her neck just as quickly as the first. 

The gesture is barely complete before the next attack, an attempt to choke him from behind that lasts barely a second before Fenris has the man on the ground, badly winded. 

The remaining two slavers have frozen now, having finally recognised Fenris’ speed and strength for what it is.

“Please Ser,” one begs, “we didn’t know. We will in future. Won’t try it again, we swear!”

Fenris has no words to spare for them, nor any sympathy. He remembers nothing of his life – his true life, before his master made him what he is. All he knows is what Danarius would say about him sometimes, never to him but always so he could hear: how fortunate Fenris was, as a slave, to have been made beautiful, strong and immortal. But Fenris remembers the weight of the collar around his neck even then, despite Danarius’ words, reminding him always of what he was. A slave.

No. Fenris has no pity for slavers.

“We’re on your side,” the slaver pleads as Fenris stalks towards him. Fenris merely snarls and kills the man as easily as the first two. And, as the last tries to run, he finally lights the lyrium in his skin and thrusts his hand through the man’s back, tearing the heart from his chest as he goes. 

The scent of blood is in the air and the Demon, bored until now by so many clean, bloodless deaths, finally stirs. Fenris turns slowly, carefully, to face the winded man. The last one of them left alive, who still hasn’t quite managed to pick himself all the way off the ground. He isn’t going anywhere fast and Fenris can afford to fight the Demon to retain as much control over himself as possible. It frustrates the Demon to no end, of course, but Fenris knows how to resist its temptations. He’ll give it what it wants but only on his own terms. 

He approaches the winded slaver and hauls him up by the throat. The slaver tries to fight the crushing feeling in his lungs, the pressure on his throat, to beg in breathless gasps. The Demon likes that. Fenris is simply indifferent. As such, he makes no attempt to savour the moment leading up to the bite. Even as his eyes darken and he draws back his lips to reveal sharp pointed teeth. He ignores the final pleas and pulls aside the collar of the man’s jacket with one hand, while pushing up his chin to expose his neck with the other.

Then he bites. As it always does, when the blood hits his tongue, the usually indistinct line separating himself and the Demon blurs all the more. It is a long-practised skill that lets Fenris sense that line at all but during the act of feeding it might as well not exist. No matter how he tries to exert control, he loses himself to the taste of blood every time.

It is nothing but pure instinct for survival that cuts through the blood-frenzy to let Fenris know when suddenly he isn’t alone anymore. He hears a voice cut through the red haze, words that mean little to him, “Hawke, I’ve found one...”

Fenris has moved before he has even properly registered the interruption and when he comes back to himself, he is staring into the wide eyes of a young elven woman. She’s backed up against a wall with Fenris’ hand around her throat. He’s choking her, he realises just an instant before he is thrown back by a wave of telekinetic force.

He lands on his feet, sinking into a crouch to soften the landing. In front of him, the elf – the mage, he now realises – is leaning back against the wall, her fingers at her throat, breathing heavily. There’s a muffled sound somewhere on the ground a few feet away. A tinny voice calling, “Merrill? Shit! MERRILL!” 

Their eyes meet again and neither one of them moves, taking a moment to weigh up their opposition. Then she opens her mouth and without taking her eyes off Fenris calls, “I’m okay, Hawke.”

He notes now the vallaslin on her face that mark her as one of the Dalish. It seems unlikely that she would be with the slavers but he doesn’t quite understand what a Dalish elf would be doing here in this miserable city, let alone in a dark alley in the middle of the night. He’d rather not kill her but this is something he needs to figure out before he can consider letting his guard down.

He rises slowly to his feet. “You should not have come here,” he begins but he is interrupted by the feeling of cool metal at his throat. 

“Funny, I was about to say the same about you.” The voice of the woman holding the knife is hard, as is her expression when he turns his eyes on her. Fenris is not as surprised by the elf having backup as he is by the second woman’s ability to sneak up on him.

The woman is human. Her attractive face is framed by dark curls, spilling out from behind a blue bandanna. 

“Or perhaps what I should say is that you never should have touched my friend because now one of us is going to have to kill you.”

He narrows his eyes at her. This is not what he wanted. These women are not slavers, of that he is certain. He would rather let them go than kill them. But if they attack first, he might not have much choice in the matter. 

In front of him, the elven mage takes a few measured steps then ducks down to retrieve her phone. She holds it up to her ear. “Hawke?” After a second, presumably receiving no answer, she lowers her hand and slips the device into the pocket of her dark green dress. Then she moves to retrieve a staff he hadn’t noticed before that must have also fallen to the ground when he grabbed her earlier. Now she too is armed but makes no move yet to attack.

Hoping they will understand the threat he truly poses, he tells the human, “That knife cannot kill me.”

She flashes him a grim smile. “Oh, I know. But vampire or not, I figure a slit throat still has to sting like a bitch.”

She moves almost too quickly for him. Almost. He stops her hand quickly enough that the blade makes only a shallow wound at his throat. She twists expertly out of his grip while bringing up a second knife to slice at his middle. He dodges the attack and falls back into a defensive stance. The woman stands with her twin blades poised in front of her, ready to strike should Fenris make another move. Behind her the mage holds her staff ready but still doesn’t attack.

“You okay, Kitten?” asks the human without taking her eyes off Fenris.

The elf answers, “Yes. I’m alright. Thank you, Isabela. He just gave me a fright, that’s all.”

He wonders if he should attempt to reason with them. They know what he is, and they’ve likely made assumptions about him because of that. The human, Isabela, has surprisingly fast reflexes but she is still human and as such, Fenris is still faster. She knows this and is being careful. As for the mage – Merrill, according to the voice on the phone a moment ago – he does not know why she has yet to attack but he wonders if it means she would be willing to retreat if Fenris offered to let her.

He is not given the opportunity to ask before his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of someone approaching at a run. A moment later, there is another human woman, one with cropped hair just as black as the other’s but with much paler skin. She skids to a halt before the three of them.

Isabela smirks. “Hawke. Took you long enough.”

“There are more of them,” Hawke responds simply, expression grim, her sharp blue eyes locked on Fenris. 

She charges. Fenris is ready to deflect her blow but it comes much harder than he anticipated. Her kick sends him stumbling a few steps backwards before he manages to regain his balance. She does not waste a moment before she’s on him once more. But he’s ready for her this time and blocks the punches she throws at him.

This woman is mortal, Fenris is certain of it, but she is stronger and faster than any human he has fought before, enough even to rival him. He understands now why the other two hesitated to attack. They were waiting for their leader to arrive, knowing their chance at beating him just increased dramatically.   
He curses himself for not taking out the mage when he had the chance. The fight is three on one now and it has been a while since odds like that felt like something to worry about.

But worry is something he does not have time to feel now. He fends off attacks from the two humans but the mage hesitates only to avoid hitting her companions. She twirls her staff, sending bolts of magic his way whenever there is an opening. One hits him in the chest. Then Hawke’s fist hits him in the face shortly after. He recovers quickly, dodging one of Isabela’s knives. He is not so lucky with the second: it slices his arm, drawing blood.

Fenris cannot help but react to the scent of blood during battle, even when the blood is his own. It excites the Demon in him, chips away just that little bit at his carefully built control. In that moment, Hawke is close. He sees into her eyes and something has lit in them, the pupils dilated just enough to be noticeable. There is something dangerous in that look. 

Fenris activates the lyrium brands on his skin. Only half in this world, half in the fade, he dodges Hawke’s next attack and swiftly repositions himself behind her. He means to end this quickly now so he reaches for her in his incorporeal state, before making himself solid again. She is too fast and his attack misses its target. He wounds her shoulder rather than her heart. She spins and lands another kick to his side and the blow forces him back.

The wound on her shoulder is bleeding profusely. The black leather of her jacket makes it difficult to see, but he can smell it and the scent is far more exciting than his own blood could ever be. His control has been compromised considerably now but he holds onto it as tightly as he can manage, refusing every one of the Demon’s advances. He meant to kill her. The wound has barely even slowed her down. In fact, the way her eyes burn suggests she’ll fight harder because of it.

“He’s good, I’ll give him that,” Isabela comments.

“Too good,” mutters Hawke. “Time to end this.”

He sees now that in the time it has taken him to recover from her last blow, Hawke has drawn her weapon. It hardly surprises him at this point to see that she carries a sharply pointed wooden stake. This woman knows what she is doing and her weapon of choice is far deadlier to Fenris than either of Isabela’s knives.  
Fenris grits his teeth. He needs to even the odds of this fight and quickly. Taking out Isabela might be a good option. She moves quickly but is relying upon her friend’s strength as a distraction. If he lets her think she has an opening then perhaps he can take her out in one hit.

But his chance does not come. Before he can attempt it, the mage calls out from the far end of the alleyway, “Hawke, there are more of them!”

“Shit,” says Hawke, as the elf turns her magic on several newcomers. Fenris does not have to look at them to know what they are. Vampires. It’s obvious in the blackness of their eyes. In the reek of blood off them even from several metres away. “Bela. Go help Merrill.”

“Already on it,” answers Isabela. And, indeed, she is already half way towards her friend, leaving Hawke to face Fenris alone.

Fenris does not allow himself a moment to appreciate his luck. Nor does Hawke let her guard down once throughout the exchange. Even so, he can feel how the fight has turned slightly more in his favour. He has his preternatural strength and speed, along with his skill from many years as bodyguard to Danarius. One human – vampire hunter or no – will not take him down. He has survived too much to fall to this.

They exchange blows, each one fighting as hard and fast as the other. But then Fenris sees his opening, short as it is. One of the new arrivals slips by Merrill and Hawke turns just long enough to stake the creature easily through the heart. It took only a moment but Fenris should have had her. She turns back before the body hits the ground, spilling into dust. 

She frowns at him, clearly noting Fenris’ hesitation and not understanding the reason for it. Fenris keeps his defensive stance. Then the moment passes and they’re surrounded again. Or, Hawke is surrounded. The vampires, recognising him, if not personally, then at least as one of their own, leave him alone.

He could kill her. It would be so much easier now that it’s five to one. But whatever it was that made him hesitate seems to have hold of him still. He doesn’t want to do it. He had been fighting for his life just then, that was all. And Fenris sees this as another kind of chance. These creatures, crazed with their lust for blood, will not last long against this woman, skilled fighter that she is. But Fenris does not need such a long time to slip away, unseen, into the darkness of the Kirkwall streets.

A vampire hunter is no slaver. Somehow, through everything that has happened over the past few years, that’s the sort of thing that has come to matter to him. He does not need to kill her. So he chooses instead to leave.


	2. Master Hunter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure if I was going to finish editing this on time but I think I'm finally sort of satisfied with it. All I know is I now have way more respect for people who manage to write clever, realistic worldbuilding into their AUs. It's difficult! And whenever I try to think too hard about some details I'm just overcome by the desire to lie down more than anything else... Hopefully this will be enjoyable to read, even if it's not perfect.
> 
> The chapter title is taken from the Laura Marling song [Master Hunter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fO2gm29rI7E), which I think fits Marian pretty well. I hope you'll like her. She's a bit... well, you'll see... XD

With a final forward thrust of the stake in her hand, Marian watches the last of the vampires fall to dust at her feet. She quickly looks around to double check that she got all of them but sees only Merrill and Isabela catching their breath a few paces away. With that, she relaxes her stance, then grunts in pain. That was not how that was supposed to go. 

She’d ran from the group she’d been fighting earlier only because keeping Merrill safe was her priority. She'd figured one would be easy enough to take out before the rest caught up with her. But it happens sometimes that she encounters a vampire who actually knows what they’re doing, relying on more than instinct and bloodthirst. Marian never should have agreed to splitting up. Not simply because things were quiet and they’d cover more ground that way. It was sloppy work. She knows better. 

“You two okay?” she asks the others and winces a little at the pain in her jaw. That first vampire had got in a good kick there. It’s not as bad as her shoulder but it aches enough that she’s pissed she let him get away. 

“Just a few scratches. I’m no worse for wear,” Merrill answers cheerfully. She slips her wooden staff onto the holster on her back and brushes some stray dust off her dress. 

Beside her, Isabela simply shrugs her shoulders, “You know me, Hawke, I’m too fast for them.” 

Her blasé attitude makes Marian scowl. “You were both lucky. We were stupid tonight.” 

“I don’t know,” drawls Isabela, “it wasn’t so bad. You did manage to take down that first one, didn’t you? The hot one?” 

“The hot one?” repeats Marian, appalled. She realises they’re talking about a vampire, doesn’t she? “Isabela, are you serious?” 

Isabela just smirks, entirely unconcerned by Marian’s judgemental glare. “What? I have eyes, don’t I? You can’t blame a girl for using them.” 

There hardly seems to be any point in arguing with her, so she chooses to drop the subject and answers the first question instead. “No. I didn’t. He got away and the fact that he chose to run and not press his advantage when those others showed up might be the only reason we’re still standing.” 

Isabela’s eyebrows go up in surprise but there’s still a faint smirk on her lips as she replies, “He got away? Really? Impressive. Hot vampire lives to bite another day.” 

“Isabela,” Marian is getting irritable now. Well, Marian is always at least a little bit irritable but right at this moment she feels quite justified in it. The pain in her jaw is topped only by the pain in her shoulder, which is wet and sticky in a way that suggests her favourite leather jacket might well be ruined. The black top she’s wearing underneath it definitely is, where one of the more blood-crazed vampires got its claws into her right before getting a stake in its own chest. She’s mostly annoyed at herself for letting things escalate so far, but Isabela really isn’t helping. 

Merrill, possibly not noticing any of this, says, “His eyes were very green for a vampire. I’ve never seen one with green eyes before. They’re usually so...” she holds her hands out like claws in front of her and bares her teeth in an approximation of a vampire’s grimace. The effect of which is ruined by the fact that on Merrill it just looks sort of cute. 

“Merrill, please tell me that while that creature was trying to kill you, you weren’t simply taking a moment to appreciate the colour of his eyes.” 

Merrill lets her hands drop back to her side and blinks up at Marian. “Oh, but you know, I’m not sure that he was. Trying to kill me, I mean. I think I might actually have just taken him by surprise and he was possibly considering letting me go. Only then Isabela showed up and attacked him and I think that might have made him angry.” 

“You think?” Marian sighs and then scowls again as her bruised jaw flares up in pain. “What you’re saying doesn’t make any sense. Vampires are killers.” She gestures angrily to the corpses scattered across the alley amongst the dusty remains of the slain vampires. “That one clearly is. You should know better than to fall for their tricks just because one of them has a pretty face.” 

“Ha! So you admit it was pretty!” laughs Isabela from somewhere down the alleyway. 

“Bela, shut up.” 

“I’m no fool, Hawke,” huffs Merrill with a glare that might be fierce, if, once again, Merrill were at all capable of seeming fierce. “I know what I saw.” 

Marian glares back but before she can retort, Isabela calls out, “Speaking of murderous vampires... the one you found, Kitten, did he do all this?” 

Merrill blinks and the anger slips from her face as quickly as it had arrived. “Well, I assume so. He was certainly feeding on one of them when I got here.” 

“I think I recognise this one,” says Isabela, crouching low beside one of the bodies; one of three with the neck bent at an unnatural angle. “Came to The Hanged Man every now and then. Nasty piece of work. And I’m fairly certain he was a slaver.” She looks up at the other two as she questions, “Why would a vampire attack a slaver group?” 

“Coincidence,” snaps Marian. “Keep your hands off him, Isabela. You know what Aveline gets like when her crime scenes have been messed with.” 

Isabela frowns her annoyance but holds her hands up, backing off. “You know, we could always pretend they were looted before we got here.” 

It’s not that Marian really cares about what happens to the belongings of slavers, but she really doesn’t need the headache from Aveline at the moment. Additional headache that is. Her head is already throbbing and all she wants is to go home and sleep it off. “Trust me, she’d know. She always does. I’d better call her now, anyway. I think we can call it a night out here. You two can head back if you want.” 

“You sure?” asks Isabela. “Hanging around crime scenes, waiting for the guard to show, has never been one of my favourite pastimes but I suppose I could be convinced to give it a go. Only for you, Hawke.” 

Marian shakes her head. “It’s fine. You go. Just be careful.” 

“You too, Hawke,” answers Merrill. Her eyes fall to Marian’s shoulder and she asks, “Are you sure you shouldn’t be going to see Anders instead of waiting here?” 

Marian rolls her eyes. “I’ll be fine.” 

“Are you really sure? There’s a great hole in the back of your jacket, you know.” 

She knew it. Bracing against the pain it causes her to move, she shrugs out of the jacket to take a look. “Can you fix it?” she asks Merrill, as she pokes a finger through the torn fabric. 

“I think you should be more concerned with the hole in your shoulder right now,” Isabela comments drily. 

Looking stern, Merrill approaches, pulling a roll of bandages out of a small bag at her hip. “Crouch down so I can at least sort you out a bit if you won’t go straight to the clinic.” 

It’s clear from the look on the elf’s face that she’s not going to take no for an answer so Marian does as she’s told. Cooperation is likely to be the faster route to getting to go home tonight, after all. “It looks quite nasty,” says Merrill worriedly as she takes the bandage and wraps it tightly around Marian’s shoulder, over her t-shirt. “But, there, that should be enough to hold you together until you can get to Anders.” 

Marian sighs. “Do I have to?” 

She’s slept off plenty of wounds before. Being a hunter has its perks, after all. Her unusual strength is one of them but the most useful is probably how quickly she’s able to bounce back from injuries. 

Isabela snorts at her lack of enthusiasm and decides to take Merrill’s side. Typical. “I wonder if you’d be asking that if you could see yourself right now. I suppose if anyone could pull off the purple and swollen look, it’d be you but, knowing Anders, it’s probably about time one of us paid him a visit.” 

“It’s true,” agrees Merrill, with a note of worry. “I haven’t seen him at the house all week. He’s probably working himself half to death in that clinic.” 

“Fine,” Marian grumbles. Annoyed only because Bethany could probably do a decent enough job of taking care of her wounds without giving her half the shit Anders will for it. “I’ll go check on him.” 

Satisfied, Isabela turns to go. But Merrill’s gaze lingers on the corpse of the man Isabela had recognised. “It does seem a bit odd, though, doesn’t it? The slavers alone, I could believe to be a coincidence. But there was something different than usual about that vampire.” 

“Sometimes it’s like that,” says Marian, forcing patience. “But vampires in Kirkwall don’t benefit from slaver activity. We’re all the same to them – just walking blood-bags. There’s no need to go looking for some other motive when the usual one fits just fine.” 

Merrill doesn’t quite look convinced. But at the very least she decides against arguing. “Hmm... if you say so.” 

With that, Merrill and Isabela go. Marian digs her phone out from her pocket and calls Aveline. 

* * *

It takes twenty minutes for Aveline and her investigation team to arrive. Marian uses the time to call Bethany and check whether Anders might have saved her a journey into Darktown and gone back to the house for the night. The call results mainly in a telling off from her younger sister – “Marian, do you have any idea what time it is?” – but she does get her confirmation that Anders is nowhere to be found within the Hawke estate. Darktown it is then. 

By the time Aveline shows up, Marian is tired and grumpy and dreaming of the hot bath she plans to take before she can finally go to bed. 

“You sent the others away?” grumbles Aveline as her team go about cordoning off the area. “I could have done with getting a statement.” 

Marian goes to lean back against closest wall then immediately straightens up when she realises it hurts to do that. It doesn’t do wonders for her mood. “I’m pretty sure you already know where to find them. Just get your statements tomorrow... Besides, it was all I could do to keep Isabela from looting the bodies.” 

Aveline sighs. “Good to know,” she says, deeply sarcastic. “Actually, this is the first attack I’ve seen like this lately where the wallets haven’t been touched. I suppose that’s because Merrill caught him in the act.” 

“That would do it,” Marian says, attentive now. “What do you mean, other attacks? Like this one?” 

“There have been a few. Slaver groups. All killed the same way, with barely a drop of blood on them. It never looked like a vampire attack before now but still beyond normal human capability. I thought perhaps a mage – or a demon... But since when do demons steal cash from wallets?” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Aveline frowns. “I left you a message last week. I’ve been waiting for you to call me back.” 

“Oh.” Marian blinks, remembering. “Right. Knew there was something I was supposed to do this week. Sorry, I’ve been busy.” 

“Well, you’re here now. I suppose that’s something. Did you get a good look at this vampire, at least?” 

“Sort of? I mean he kept his hood up the whole time. Looked like he was an elf – well, before he was a vampire anyway. Other than that, olive skin, green eyes... pretty sure he had tattoos but I didn’t get a good look at them. He looked to be in his twenties but if I had to guess, I doubt he was new to the whole vampire thing.” 

Aveline takes note of the description then looks up. “Anything else?” 

“That’s pretty much it,” says Marian with a shrug. “I got the impression he didn’t want to be easily recognisable. Let me know if you find anything. I’d like to know what’s going on here. If this vampire is deliberately targeting slavers then... well, that’s pretty weird. Guess I owe Merrill an apology. Ugh.” 

At least it’s just Merrill. She’ll be gracious about it. Unlike most of her other friends. 

“I’ll be in touch if I find anything. But come by the station tomorrow anyway. I have the payment for the last job you took on for us.” 

Marian flashes Aveline a grin. One that might, on occasion, have been described as shark-like, though Marian doesn’t usually mean it that way. “Aveline, have I ever mentioned you’re my favourite guard captain?” 

“Once or twice,” answers Aveline dryly. “Usually when there’s coin involved.” 

“It has to be said, you’ve always known the way straight to my heart. See you tomorrow, Aveline.” 

“Good night Hawke. I hope you’re going to get those wounds seen to.” 

That is exactly where Marian is going next. She waves off Aveline’s concern and heads for the Darktown clinic. 

* * *

Darktown is as filthy and miserable as it ever is. Marian makes sure to walk topside until she arrives at the stairway closest to Anders’ clinic. It may take a little longer, but it’s better than spending any more time in that place than she needs to. At least she has that option, unlike most of her fellow Fereldens here in Kirkwall. The Hawkes were fortunate enough to get out of Ferelden before the blight began. The ones that didn’t, who fled to Kirkwall before it closed its gates to Ferelden, ended up here, in what is basically a sewer, as old as the city itself and long out of use - for its original purpose anyway. For its more recent purpose, as an underground slum, it is utilised by many. 

Marian doesn’t often get trouble from the residents now that most of the gangs in the area have learned to steer clear of her but occasionally someone desperate will try something. It’s more pitiful than anything else and she doesn’t like having to feel sorry for the people threatening her at knifepoint. Especially knowing how easily it could have been her and her family living here, had they not inherited the Amell estate from their grandparents. 

Anders has always been vague about what exactly brought him to Kirkwall. He might well have come here the same way as the other Ferelden refugees, but knowing him, it’s possible he wound up in Darktown entirely on purpose. He helps because no one else will. That’s what he says when questioned anyway. Marian gets the impression he changes the subject because it’s easier to talk about the injustice he sees here than it is to talk about himself. She can’t say she blames him for that. 

When she gets to the clinic, the light above the door that usually means Anders is in is turned off. But if he’s not back at the house, she figures he’s unlikely to be anywhere else. She knocks loudly on the door. When she gets no response, she knocks again, this time louder still. After the third knock, she sees a light go on through the crack around the door, which, a second later, is wrenched open and suddenly there stands Anders, looking dishevelled and – though he tries to hide it – grumpy. 

“Hawke,” he says in a way that suggests she’s not the person he expected it to be. His expression changes and it’s still distinctly frown-like but there’s concern there now too. “Your face...” 

“It’s nothing. Vamp got in a lucky hit that’s all.” She pushes past Anders into the clinic and he rolls his eyes at her as he steps aside to let her pass. “Were you sleeping?” 

“Yes. Something people often do in the middle of the night.” 

Marian turns and gives him a look that is distinctly unimpressed. “Like you’re one to talk. You know there’s a perfectly good bed with your name on it back at the house. Merrill says you haven’t been using it lately. She was worried.” 

Anders arches an eyebrow. “Merrill was worried?” 

“Yeah. That’s what I said.” 

“Hmm,” he replies. Like for some reason he doesn’t believe her. 

Marian scowls at him. 

“Just wanted to clarify, seeing as you’re the one who came attempting to bang down my door in the middle of the night.” 

“Yeah. The door to your _clinic_. I just got beaten up remember?” 

Maybe she says it too defensively because Anders frowns back at her and now there’s a stubborn set to the line of his mouth that has become frustratingly familiar to Marian over the course of their friendship. It’s usually a sign that he’s trying to hold back from saying something. But she knows Anders and that’s never been something he’s had much talent for. It doesn’t really surprise her when he finally tells her, “Bethany could have taken care of that bruise.” 

Most people don’t think of Marian as a particularly patient person. But she disagrees. She exercises patience all the time actually. She has to in order to deal with _certain_ people. And this is a fine example of just that: she takes a breath and tells him, quite calmly – or what passes for Marian as calmly, “Yes, that is true.

However, Merrill was worried about you not being home all week. And I thought, ‘he’s probably up working on that manifesto again. I’ll go check on him and remind him that sleep is something living humans require from time to time’ - hadn’t realised I’d be interrupting you in the middle of it. Sorry about that. Will that do? Because I’m not sure what else you want from me.” 

Anders sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “No, I'm sorry. You’re right, I haven’t been sleeping well lately. I shouldn’t be taking that out on you.” 

Marian doesn’t quite ease up her glare but she mutters “Yeah? Well try sleeping in an actual bed for once. I hear it makes all the difference.” 

Anders’ lips quirk as he finally lets a touch of humour enter his expression. “I’ll have to give that a go next time.” 

He gestures to the door leading out of his makeshift waiting room to his office. The whole place is about as sterile as can possibly be expected from a building located in Darktown, which is to say, it doesn’t look great. But Marian knows that Anders and the other volunteers that work here take good care of the place.

Anders waves his hand in the direction of the examination table that takes up a good portion of the small room and says, “Take a seat. Any other injuries you want me to look at or did this guy just have something against your face? Completely uncalled for, if that’s the case. It’s a perfectly good face.” 

Marian gives him a sarcastic look then hops up onto the table and shrugs off her jacket. “He got my back actually.” She starts to tug at the bandages wrapped around her shoulder and Anders steps forward to assist. Once the bandage is off – looking a lot more bloodstained than the last time Marian glimpsed it – Anders' eyes widen. “How bad is it?” she asks. 

“Shit... seriously, Hawke? How long ago did this happen?” 

“What?” 

“Just...” he shakes his head, staring at her back, “you could have mentioned you were in pain.” 

Marian shrugs then immediately regrets doing so. And then she tries to cover that up by gritting out, “I figured it’d stop bleeding eventually. I’m pretty hardy like that.” 

“I’ll need to get a better look at the wound,” Anders tells her. She’d expected that, so without looking at him, she starts to tug at the hem of her shirt. But the movement hurts more than she’s ready for. She grunts in pain and Anders reaches out to help her again. “I can-” she begins to protest but he gives her a look that convinces her to swallow her pride and let him help. 

Oh well. Nothing they haven’t done before, she figures. 

He helps to guide the t-shirt over her head and arm, trying to jostle her wounded shoulder as little as possible. Once it’s off, Marian glances back to see the look of concentration that comes over Anders’ face as he slips into healer mode. All business now, he tells her, “Lie forward.” Then, maybe not so business like, he adds, “You’re an idiot, by the way. Even with all those mystical hunter powers you have, you’re still human. You have to...” 

“Take care of myself. Yeah, yeah. I’ll try to find some time to do that between my busy schedule of taking care of every other person I know too,” she grumbles. 

“Lie still,” says Anders. Still scowling, she complies and a second later she begins to feel the familiar, odd sensation of his healing magic working on her shoulder. After a moment, he speaks again, “You say that like you give any of us a choice.” 

Marian doesn’t really have an answer for that. Besides, “Hmph...” She doesn’t have to see Anders’ face to know he’s smirking. She doesn’t know what about. Without her, he’d still be living in this clinic. Merrill would... well, it’s hard to say with Merrill. She’s the kind of person who makes people want to help her – okay, she makes Marian feel that way; her old clan, not so much – but still, she’d probably be alright. She’s cleverer and more resourceful than she tends to let people see. Bethany, though... Bethany would have turned to the Circle. Marian hates to think of it but she can’t help but feel it’s true. 

They fall into silence while Marian ruminates and Anders concentrates on healing. When he’s done with her shoulder, she sits up and pulls her shirt back on over her head, failing to miss Anders’ slight smirk as he looks away. Apparently, she was a fool to think he wouldn’t be at least a little bit weird about that. The ass. 

“You’re supposed to be a professional,” she mutters but it only makes him smirk wider. 

“True, but I’m always willing make an exception for you, Hawke,” he teases, more at ease now that the worst of her injuries has been treated. She rolls her eyes and he adds, “Besides, qualified healer or not, you know I’m not technically licenced to run this place. Hence the underground set up.” 

“Your other patients must be so reassured when you remind them of that,” she tells him bitingly. 

He chuckles softly, seeming entirely unconcerned as he changes the subject. “You want me to take a look at those cuts on your stomach?” 

She nods and leans back to allow him access, watching as he focuses his attention on the scratches marring her torso. 

“How did you manage to get quite so beaten up anyway?” he asks without looking up from his work. “It’s not often you turn up her with more than a few cuts and bruises.” 

She huffs. “It wasn’t that bad really. Just one vampire caught me by surprise. One of those lucid types. I get too used to vampires that are more fang than strategy.

Usually it’s just one well aimed stake and poof! Dust. But this one knew what he was doing.” 

“Tell me about it. I just hate those lucid vampire types. Bet you got him back in the end though.” 

Marian pulls a face, not pleased to have to admit it again. “No. He got away.” 

Anders’ eyebrows go up a little. “Hmm. So he was the extra lucid kind.” 

Marian rolls her eyes. “Nothing to worry about. I’ve got Aveline looking out for him. I’ll get Varric on it too when I get a chance to call him.” 

He frowns slightly as he finishes his work and looks up at her. “Just be careful,” he tells her seriously. “I think I can speak for all of your friends when I say we prefer you in one piece.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” she repeats, more firmly. 

That slightly stubborn look about his mouth returns for just a moment before he shakes his head and sighs, “If you insist. Sit up and I’ll heal that bruise for you.” 

She does as he asks and he crouches level with her and brings his palm up to hover by the side of her face. She sees the blue glow of healing magic in her peripheral vision and feels it begin to work, mending the damaged blood vessels and easing the swelling. Eventually he draws back. He’s become more careful lately, she notices. Not letting his touch linger a second longer than it needs to. And that’s something at least. 

It could be that but more likely it’s her earlier thoughts of Bethany that spur her to say, “It’s appreciated, you know. What you do down here. What with Merrill... And if anything ever happened to Bethany...” 

“I know,” he answers gently. “That’s why I do it.” 

But perhaps she misjudged how safe it was to say it because she hates the way he looks at her then. The way he says ‘I know’ and she can tell he means it beyond the obvious; the things he understands more than she ever will because he’s a mage and she isn’t. But it’s like he sees what she wouldn’t say out loud... like what would have happened to her father if there had been someone like Anders around back then to help him. It makes her sick if she thinks too hard about it. She wishes she hadn’t at all. Anders looks at her like he _knows_ and now she just wishes he’d stop. Maybe she’s being unfair. But she’s just not sure if she can let him in like that. It all feels too complicated with him. 

Not wanting to dwell on that any longer she tells him, “Jaw feels good. Thanks for that.” She hops up off the table and grabs her jacket. She doesn’t look at him as she tells him, “You should come back to the house tonight. Get some decent rest.” 

“Hawke,” Anders says imploringly, “you know you don’t have to...” 

“Don’t, Anders,” Marian sighs. 

“I’m only trying to...” 

“I know. And don’t.” 

Anders stops and she doesn’t even have to look at him to know what expression he’s wearing. That one that says he’s biting his tongue. She knows he’s had more success with it now than earlier when she hears his sigh of frustration. “Fine. I’ll come by the house tomorrow. It’s not worth the journey tonight and I get the impression you’d rather do it without my company.” 

She hesitates, frowning at the floor in front of her and knowing she should tell him he’s wrong. But she’s just not in the mood for it. It’s not that Marian enjoys being cruel. She’s just not sure how to fix this weirdness that always seems to creep up on them whenever it’s just the two of them. And, she’ll admit, no one has ever accused her of being a paragon of emotional maturity. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” is all she ends up saying. “Thanks for the...” she gestures vaguely between her jaw and her shoulder. 

Anders does not look particularly happy as he sighs, “Any time, Hawke.” 

He sees her out and as she makes her way to the nearest staircase out of Darktown, she distracts herself with thoughts of that bath she’s been longing for all night. 

* * *

She sleeps late the following morning, as she prefers to do whenever she can manage it. Hunting vampires as a career largely means having to keep to a vampire-like schedule of her own. She only has a few things she needs to do today so she gets up around the time Bethany is making lunch. 

Bethany smiles as Marian enters the kitchen, apparently having forgiven her for disturbing her sleep last night. Marian makes coffee and takes a seat at the kitchen table while Bethany makes them both cheese toasties like the good egg she is. 

“Have you got much planned for today?” she questions cheerfully as she works. 

“Not a lot,” replies Marian. “Have to go see Aveline at some point. Then I’ll probably go to The Hanged Man to speak to Varric. Want to come along?” 

“Not today.” Bethany places a couple of plates on the table and sits down before explaining, “I told Anders I’d help out at the clinic this afternoon.” 

Marian tries not to let her disapproval show but from the look on Bethany’s face she can see she might not be managing it too well. Marian’s reaction has nothing to do with Anders this time. It’s just a risk, that’s all. It’s the same risk Anders takes down there every day but Anders isn’t Marian’s little sister. While it’s true that running the clinic is one of the things Marian will always respect him for, the thought of Bethany doing the same still frightens her a little. 

The Hawkes have always done their best to keep the Templars off their backs – well, all except for Carver but Marian generally makes an effort not to think about that – and the way things are going, it seems more important than ever that they continue to do just that. Everything Marian has heard about Meredith Stannard, the commander of the Kirkwall Templars, has made it clear what her opinions are on mages. Marian doesn’t doubt that, given the choice, she would have them all locked up in the Gallows the way they always used to be. It makes what Anders is doing all the more dangerous. These days, the cells of the Gallows are reserved only for criminal mages, those deemed too dangerous to be free. And yet, that’s exactly where they’d send Anders if they found out he was running an illegal clinic in Darktown. It wouldn’t matter that he’s helping people. The Templars wouldn’t see it that way. 

But as much as it scares her, Marian can’t stop Bethany from doing what she believes is right. Anders has had the worst experience with the Circle of anyone she knows and he still takes the risk to help others. How can she be anything but proud of Bethany for her willingness to do the same? 

Besides, she thinks she understands where Bethany is coming from. Sometimes she wonders if helping Anders might be the only thing keeping her from turning to the Circle herself. Most mages do. And while Bethany has the support of her family, there are a lot of mages that rely on the Circle to survive. Most workplaces require mage employees to be registered. Getting found out will not only lose an unregistered mage their job but it will bring the Templars down on them with a lot more force than it would for anyone who willingly registered after coming into their magic. 

Still, she kind of wishes Bethany could be with satisfied taking the odd shift at The Hanged Man. There’s no real risk in that. Bethany has enough experience by now in keeping her magic a secret, which makes the chances of her getting found out in such an environment very slim. Plus, Varric owns the pub so Marian knows she’d be in safe hands. 

Bethany won’t be swayed though, so pushing aside her worries, Marian merely asks, “Will you be driving?” Bethany can’t take the car into Darktown itself but Marian feels a bit better when she’s not walking back from there at night. It’s not that Bethany can’t defend herself but that doing so is always a risk in itself for a mage. 

“Yes. And since I noticed you failed to bring Anders back with you last night, I would be glad to do the honours myself this evening.” She pauses, then narrows her eyes slightly. “You did go and see him last night, didn’t you?” 

“I went.” 

“And?” 

“And what? He healed me. I asked him to come back here. He said no.” 

Bethany looks unconvinced. “Not exactly unusual... but did he give a reason?” 

Marian shrugs, then huffs in frustration. “He didn’t think I wanted him with me. Just because I didn’t want to have some awkward heart-to-heart with him.” 

Bethany narrows her eyes, giving her sister a scrutinising look before deciding to let it go with a sigh. “I don’t know if I’ll ever understand the issue between you two... Though I’ll admit, I’m sort of relieved you refuse to go there with him. It’s bad enough listening to the two of you bicker the way things are.” 

“It wouldn’t be nearly so bad if he’d just get over it.” 

“Now you’re being unkind.” 

Marian scowls. “Well, maybe I am unkind. I don’t understand why he feels the way he does. I seem to annoy him more often than not.” As far as Marian is concerned, she is quite content to let her little sister continue to believe that she has never ‘been there’ with Anders. Some things don’t need to be shared quite so liberally. 

“That’s not true. And I know you don’t have as much of a problem with him as you pretend.” 

“Hmph,” answers Marian, choosing to neither confirm nor deny. 

“Besides, you wouldn’t have invited him to live with us if you didn’t like him.” 

“Well, the man was practically homeless,” she grumbles. It might not be the most ideal arrangement, given the circumstances, but as the best healer she knows, she has a vested interest in keeping Anders looked after. 

Bethany gives her a knowing look. “I’ll convince him to come back with me tonight and have a decent meal for once.” 

“Okay. Good... you do that,” says Marian, distracted now. Her phone just buzzed where she left it on the table next to her coffee. The message is from Garrett and there’s a picture attached. She opens it to see her twin brother’s grinning face, half neat black beard, half large mirrored sunglasses. He’s looking particularly touristy, surrounded by blue sky, perched in front of some landmark building that Marian thinks she recognises but doesn’t care enough to pinpoint. Somewhere in Antiva city, she’d guess. 

The message confirms this: _Antiva is beautiful as always. But something’s missing. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Giant spiders? Murderous gangs? Family members always looking at me with varying levels of disapproval? That’s the one! Be seeing you soon, sister dear xxx_

Marian manages to refrain from rolling her eyes. She doesn’t know why Garrett can’t text like a normal person and at this point she’s given up wondering. Instead she just sighs and closes the message. “Garrett’s coming to visit,” she informs Bethany. 

There’s no point in saying he’s coming home. Kirkwall was never home to Garrett. That was always Ferelden to him. He’s never stayed in Kirkwall long enough to change that. For Marian, Kirkwall is where her family are. That’s good enough to count as home to her. 

Bethany’s face brightens. “It’s about time! Did he say when?” 

“Nope. Just ‘soon’.” 

“I’ll call him later and get the details out of him. I wonder how long he’ll stay for. Last time, it was only a few days.” 

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up that it’ll be any longer this time.” 

“Oh, don’t be like that, Marian. It’ll be good to see him. You may not admit it, but I know you agree.” 

Marian just shrugs and preoccupies herself with eating her sandwich. Once they’re both done eating, Bethany excuses herself to go and meet Anders at the clinic.

Marian figures she has time for another cup of coffee before she has to head out herself. Aveline and her latest paycheque first, then it’s time to go and she what she can dig up about the strange new vampire in town. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of nervous about introducing certain elements of this chapter. Anders and Marian's friendship is a bit on the complicated side haha... But it's gonna be okay! I think. Let's all just go with it for now... (why do I always say this at the beginning of my stories?)
> 
> Before I go, thank you so much to everyone who read/commented/left kudos on the first chapter! I'm used to having to wait quite a while for a fic to gain any interest after first posting it so I was really delighted by the response to this. Now I just hope you'll continue to enjoy as the story goes on! Thank you for reading!


	3. Not quite what anyone was expecting

It’s been three weeks since Fenris arrived in Kirkwall. Longer still since he last encountered those who hunt him. He hadn’t believed he could shake them off so easily but he’s beginning to wonder if coming to this city had been the right choice after all. 

He does not hunt slavers every night. He cannot afford to be so obvious as to keep returning to their bases to seek them out. Sometimes he has to make do with others. He tries to choose carefully. It’s important to him to put as much distance as he can between himself and the life he left behind in Tevinter. It might not make much difference. But he tries all the same. Failing to do so means admitting a certain loss of control. 

Fortunately for Fenris, there seems to be no end to corruption in the place. It doesn’t exactly endear him to the city but it makes it easier to exist here. 

Still, three weeks and he begins to wonder what it is he’s doing. How long does he intend to keep running when the best place he can hope to remain for any length of time is somewhere like Kirkwall? Prowling the streets by night, squatting in abandoned buildings by day. It is no life. But then, he is not truly of the living. He cannot remember a time when he was. 

If that matters, though, then why did he leave? He was the one who decided he wanted nothing more to do with the life after death that Danarius forced upon him. He had decided to make that grasp for freedom in whatever way he could. Should he not try to make something of that? Though he’s not sure he knows how, he starts to wonder if it may be time to stop running. 

In that case, he’ll need information. He scrapes together what coin he can and heads out in search of it. He cannot trust the local clans, not knowing which of them, if any, might have allegiances in Tevinter. He makes contact with a dwarf named Anso and has him listening out for any word of the bounty hunters he knows must still be searching for him. He also asks the dwarf to dig up what he can about the slaver groups operating in the area. Fenris wants to know if any of them have connections with his former master. Such knowledge may prove useful if he decides to make a stand here. 

Several nights pass before Anso has any word for him. Fenris meets him at a pub in Lowtown. The place is dingy and filled with enough suspicious characters that Fenris is as confident as he’s ever likely to be that no one here will give a second glance to the hooded elf meeting with a twitchy dwarf. Fenris orders a glass of red wine and takes a seat at the far corner table. Anso glances about nervously. It does not do much for Fenris’ confidence in his choice of informant. 

“It’s not great news,” the dwarf announces without managing to look Fenris in the eye. 

“Tell me.” Fenris’ expression and tone betray none of his impatience. He sips his wine, all part of his effort to blend in. Anso doesn’t touch his ale and Fenris doesn’t like that one bit. He should have waited and found someone better suited for the job. 

“There’s no sign of any bounty hunters as of yet. But there are people looking for someone matching your description. Namely, the Kirkwall Guard.” 

It is the last thing he had expected to hear. He can’t process the idea of Danarius going through such means to find him. It’s a testament to his one-track mind when it comes to his efforts to hide from his former master; it had not occurred to him that there might be others who would try to hunt him. As he considers this, he realises that he has been careless. He’s left a trail of human corpses all over the city. He did his best not to leave any evidence that might lead back to him, making sure to dispose of any bodies he’s fed from. But of course, there was the time he was seen... He swears. 

“What else?” 

“That’s er... that’s all I could...” 

Fenris glances up sharply to see Anso looking about again and this time, when Fenris follows his gaze, he sees her. The vampire hunter, Hawke, is crossing the pub towards him. 

“ _Venhedis_.” Fenris is on his feet, immediately adopting a fighting stance. 

But Hawke just holds up her hands in a gesture of peace he sees no reason to trust. Despite her seemingly relaxed posture, her expression is guarded and her tone is flat as she tells him, “I’m not here to fight.” 

He does not relax his stance. “I see no reason to believe that.” 

“If you really want to then, by all means, we can take this outside. But I mean it when I say I only came here to talk.” 

Fenris watches her face, attempting to spot any trace of a lie. She gives nothing away. He weighs up the options; if his choices are fight or listen, he can currently see no reason not to take the latter. 

“Then talk.” 

“You,” Hawke looks at Anso and jabs her thumb back over her shoulder in the signal for _get out of here_. He hastily obliges, scrambling to get out of his seat and refusing to meet Fenris’ eye as he does so. 

Hawke sits in the vacated chair. It seems to Fenris either a gesture of arrogance or good faith. He can’t quite decide which. Her expression is unchanging as she looks up at him. “You want to sit?” 

After a moment, he does, though he is far from relaxed. He waits for her to speak. 

For a moment she simply looks at him. Then her eyes fall from his face to the glass on the table in front of him and she smirks. “Red wine? Really?” He’s not quite sure what she means by that. The preference can probably be traced back to his days in Tevinter. Danarius enjoyed wine. He rarely allowed Fenris to indulge but now Fenris is free, to a certain extent anyway. He’s certainly free enough to drink whatever he pleases, when he has the coin for it. And there’s something so satisfying about taking what was once denied to him. Though, it has to be said, the wine here is a far cry from the vintages Danarius would have Fenris pour for his guests back at his estate in Minrathous. 

The hunter catches his questioning look and says, “You don’t think that’s a little obvious? No? Okay, never mind. I’m Hawke, by the way,” she tells him. She pauses a moment to give him a chance to introduce himself but seems unsurprised when he chooses not to. “I’ll get to the point then. I’m here to talk about slavers. Specifically, the surprising number of them that have gone missing or wound up dead over the past few weeks. I’ve reason to believe that would be your handiwork. Care to tell me what’s going on there?” 

Somehow Fenris manages to tense even more than he already had. His eyes narrow and he finds himself unable to bite his tongue. “Why did you come here? To defend the lives of slavers?” 

Hawke merely raises an eyebrow. “Not at all. You’re a vampire. And I think you’ve figured out what I am. It’s my business to know what the vampires in this city are up to. Usually so I can kill them. But I've been thinking since our meeting the other night. You don’t seem like the usual sort.” 

It’s not at all what he’d expected. Not that he’d known what to expect. But this woman had definitely wanted to kill him when they met several nights ago. Now, as far as he can tell, she really does only seem to be interested in talking. “What is this, then? Curiosity?” 

She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Something like that.” 

“Be more specific.” 

“No.” Suddenly her tone of voice is firm, commanding. “I want you to answer me now. Why the slavers?” 

Fenris fails to hold back a sneer. “Besides their being the worst humanity has to offer?” 

Hawke looks at least part way satisfied with the response. “If there’s more to it than that then certainly, do go on.” 

“I do not wish to discuss it.” 

“So it’s personal... fair enough.” 

He cannot believe she is so easily satisfied. But Hawke just leans back in her chair, watching Fenris thoughtfully. After a moment, she says, “My friend Merrill – you'll probably remember her: Dalish girl, the one you attacked the other night – she’s entirely convinced that you weren‘t trying to kill her.” 

Fenris weighs up his answer for a moment before deciding to see how she will react to the truth. “If I’d been trying to kill her, she would be dead. As it was... I had not yet decided if she was a threat.” 

Hawke seems unfazed by his honesty. “And what if Isabela hadn’t interrupted the two of you when she did?” 

Fenris tries once again to read her and, despite his best efforts, comes up short. He does not wish to sit here and attempt to defend himself to this woman. He would almost rather fight. But based on what he saw the other night there’s a slim, but real possibility that should he fight, he may lose. And then there’s the other possibility that if he were to win, he would be robbing the city of what he suspects may be one of its strongest defenders. The thought does not sit well with him. 

He tells her, “I have no desire to kill those who do not deserve it.” 

Hawke nods slowly. Then she says, “So was that the reason you left when you did? You had the advantage there. You might have beaten me if you’d stuck around.” 

“I have given you my answer,” says Fenris, with some slight discomfort. 

“Hm. I suppose you have...” 

Fenris has had enough of this. He leans forward, placing his hands on the table. “Now, you tell me: why do you want to know all this?” 

“Perhaps my answer is the same as yours.” 

Fenris does not know how to respond. He does not converse regularly with vampire hunters. There is certainly no abundance of them back in Tevinter. He met a few during some time spent in Seheron; all dead now, though not without great effort on Fenris’ part. It wasn’t something he was particularly proud of. He’d simply had little choice in the circumstances. In any case, while he cannot call himself an expert, this is not what he was expecting. 

Hawke says, “Never thought I’d meet a vampire who deserved anything less than a stake through the heart. But here we are. Sometimes people surprise you.” 

Fenris raises a sardonic eyebrow. “Indeed.” 

She smirks. It lasts but a second and then she’s all business. “I have a proposition for you.” 

Again. Not what he’d expected. 

“You’re new in town, right? Based on the timing of those attacks, I’m guessing you’ve been here a few weeks. During that time things have been fairly quiet on the vampire front. I’m keeping busy enough, but still, fewer vampires. You’ve been taking out some of your own, haven’t you?” 

He nods but it’s hesitant. He’s unsure of where she could be going with this. “I have noticed that a few of the gangs are involved with the slavers.” 

Hawke nods. “I noticed that too. But that’s my job. I have a very nice setup right now where I get paid by the city for taking care of vampire problems and you’ve been doing it for free. Unless you’ve got something else going on that you haven’t told me about.” She pauses, giving him the chance to speak up but he just frowns at her so she keeps going, “Here it is: I could tell you to get the fuck off my turf but instead I’m going to be generous and suggest we team up. Every time you help me out, we’ll split the payment.” 

And suddenly he understands. “So that’s what this is about. Profit.” 

If she senses any scorn from him, she is not put off by it. 

“Yes. Like I said, it’s my job. I’ve got too many people depending on me to simply do this out of the goodness of my heart. Besides, at least one of those people is self-sacrificing enough for the both of us.” She shrugs. “I figure it has to even out somewhere.” 

“You have a family.” He’s not sure why he hadn’t considered this before. But then family is something of a foreign concept to him. He’s surprised she would bring it up to him now. She narrows her eyes at him and he recognises the look on her face as she tries to read him for any potential threat. But Fenris was telling the truth earlier when he said he had no desire to kill innocents. There are plenty that might sate his Demon in this city who are far more deserving. 

Hawke seems to come to a decision. She relaxes slightly and nods. “I mean, most of them I just sort of picked up... but you could call them family.” She frowns and adds,

“You know, if you were being horribly sentimental.” 

That surprises a small smirk out of him, which he tries to hide. He assumes she notices anyway by the way she raises an eyebrow at him. But all she says is, “So what do you think?” 

“I have no need of the money.” 

“Oh.” She looks at him doubtfully, clearly eyeing the tattered cuffs of his hoodie, peeking out from under the sleeves of his worn leather jacket. “Good for you. Okay, how about this? If you help me out, I can tell my guard captain friend that I’m keeping an eye on you and you don’t need to be staked through the heart for being a murderous vampire.” 

She pauses. Fenris scowls. “You are blackmailing me.” 

She frowns like the thought hadn’t occurred to her. “That sounded bad didn’t it? Shit. No, I’m not. Truthfully, I could probably tell her the second part anyway but you might need to cool it with the murdering people for a while if you want her to believe it. You’re entirely free to choose whichever option you like. I’m simply offering one that I think will benefit us both.” 

“And if I refuse?” 

She looks him in the eye and tells him seriously, “Then all I ask is that you don’t cause any of the kind of trouble that would give me reason to hunt you.” 

Her eyes are a piercing blue and it’s not like Fenris to stare but he does so anyway, almost like he can’t look away. “Just like that, you would let me go?” 

“Stick to your word about not harming innocents and we’ll be fine. We’ll be even then too.” 

He drags his eyes away from hers and is silent. Thinking. His immediate impulse is to turn her down. For three years he has survived without help from others. He is used to working alone. Even the mess he’s found himself in with Hawke’s guard captain feels like little more than an inconvenience. He can get out of it without Hawke’s help, though doing so might mean having to leave Kirkwall. 

What tempts him is not anything she has offered, but what he might ask from her. Anso has proven himself not to be trusted and Hawke clearly has resources that could prove useful to him where Anso has failed. This could be precisely the opportunity he needs. 

But Fenris has been on the run too long to think showing his hand so early a good idea. He knows nothing about this woman or whether anything she says is the truth. The connections within the city, the mention of a family, it could all be a fabrication meant to tempt him and set him at ease. For all he knows she may be working with Danarius. It would be a clever trap to send a vampire hunter in place of his usual slavers and bounty hunters. It would be all the cleverer for how tempted he is to agree. He must look into this, find out how much of what she has told him is true. 

“I will think on it,” he tells her. 

“Fair enough. How long?” 

“I do not know. I will find you.” 

“Alright... you can leave a message here if you need me. I’ll be around.” She gets to her feet then stops and pins him with a look, as if suddenly remembering something.

“You feel like telling me your name yet?” 

He considers. If it’s a trap, she most likely already knows. “Fenris.” 

“Fenris...” her smile is sharp. He does not think it can be meant to reassure. “Let’s do this again soon.” 

And with that, she leaves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit, I get a bit uncertain writing Fenris sometimes. This fic is my first attempt at his POV so I hope I'm managing to capture his character okay.
> 
> Also, it would be good if I could keep chapter length consistent but sometimes you've just got to go with what fits. I hope no one minds long chapters because this is probably going to be the shortest one in the whole fic.
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading/leaving comments/kudos. I really appreciate it and love hearing from you!


	4. A heartfelt family reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all like ridiculous banter and just general silliness because that's mostly what this chapter consists of. (That might be what the whole story consists of actually, all the action/romance/drama sandwiched between (found) family nonsense. (Should I have put that in the summary?)) Anyway, let's go!

On the day Garrett is due to arrive, Marian goes with Bethany to pick him up from the airport. They don’t have far to go, just to the outskirts of the city, but Marian knows Bethany appreciates the company. And for all her grumbling, she does want to see Garrett. Though she’ll never admit to him that she misses him. It would absolutely go to his head. Which, if you ask Marian, is the last thing he needs.   
  
She and Bethany spend the first half of the drive mostly in silence, thanks to the car radio, which has been broken for what seems like forever. Marian doesn’t really mind the quiet. Bethany drives so Marian just peers out of the passenger side window, watching all the cramped flats and shopfronts of Lowtown go by.   
  
Eventually, Bethany speaks up, beginning the conversation perfectly innocently with, “Isabela stopped by the other day.”   
  
Marian replies with only a small amount of interest, her eyes still fixed on the passing buildings, “You say that like she doesn’t practically live with us already. Honestly at this point I don’t know why she even bothers with her own flat.”   
  
“I suppose it must be nice to have the option of privacy,” says Bethany thoughtfully, allowing herself to become distracted from whatever she’d been about to say.   
  
“Hm. True. It’s probably for the best. If she insisted on having her own room then we’d have to put up with Garrett sleeping on the sofa this whole visit.”   
  
“Either that or resort to bunk beds like when we were children.”   
  
Marian’s lips twitch at the memory. Their house back in Lothering had been small. Three bedrooms between the six of them. It had been perfect when they were young but as the four Hawke siblings grew, it had become cramped. There was little they could do about it, though. They didn’t have the money to be particular about things like space and besides, the little remote farmhouse had served them well. Malcolm and Leandra had raised two mage children there without ever rousing the suspicions of the local templars. Why leave when the family were safe and happy where they were?   
  
Then six had become five when Malcolm died. And five had become four when Garrett took off travelling for the first time. They didn’t stay in Lothering long after that. Leandra’s mother died nearly three years after Malcolm, leaving them the Kirkwall estate. The prospect of a change of scenery had seemed like exactly what the family needed at the time.   
  
Marian only has to glance at Bethany to see from her face how she misses those early days, back when the worst of the family’s problems were little more than Garrett’s frustrating habit of deliberately winding Carver up for his own amusement. Marian had never thought she’d miss it at the time. Now it’s just the three of them, and only on the rare occasions Garrett comes to visit.   
  
“I think we’ll just have to be thankful that Bela’s only interested in staying in Merrill’s room,” Marian replies, shaking off the memory the best she can. “What were you saying about her?”   
  
“Oh, yes! You know she told me something very strange the other day. Something about you trying to recruit a vampire to help you with your night time patrols.”   
  
Marian sighs but the feeling of irritation that comes over her has nothing to do with Bethany. “Isn’t that strange, considering I hadn’t told a soul about it besides Varric.”   
  
“You mean it’s true?” Bethany glances sharply at Marian, then quickly back to the road as she remembers that she’s a responsible driver. Still, her expression remains frozen in surprise and confusion.   
  
“Nothing’s been decided yet.”   
  
“But... Marian, why?”   
  
Marian hesitates. There had been a perfectly good reason why she hadn’t wanted to advertise her meeting with Fenris and Bethany’s excellent question was a part of it. “I’m not sure how to explain it. There’s something... odd about him.”   
  
She’s not surprised when Bethany is unsatisfied with her response. “I can’t believe this. I thought for certain Isabela was joking. Surely that’s no reason to trust him. I thought you hated vampires. Especially after Mum...”   
  
“I _do_ , Bethany,” Marian snaps. She hardly needs reminding of what happened to their mother. Bethany bringing it up this way is a low blow, even if she hadn’t intended it as such. Suddenly the silence is heavy between them as they each stare at the road ahead. They’re coming up to the motorway now and the airport isn’t far off. Marian huffs. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to -”   
  
“No, I shouldn’t have gone there.”   
  
“I haven’t forgotten. I can’t, any more than you can.”   
  
“I know.”   
  
Marian glares at the road a bit more before trying to explain. “I would never put you in any danger. I’d kill him before that happened.”   
  
“Marian, that’s not what I meant. I just don’t understand. This is so unlike you.”   
  
“It’s nothing to worry about, Bethany. I promise.”   
  
Bethany sighs. “I suppose I should trust you on that. You must have your reasons. Though... Isabela said...” she hesitates.   
  
“Isabela said what?”   
  
Bethany allows an awkward twist of her lips and doesn’t look away from the road as she answers, “She said he was very good looking.”   
  
Now Marian turns to stare at her sister, entirely appalled. “You cannot be implying what I think you’re implying.”   
  
Bethany laughs. “Well, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”   
  
“You had better be joking Bethany, I swear to Andraste.”   
  
Bethany is grinning now. “Maybe a little. Though Isabela seems convinced that you’ve gone soft.”   
  
“Isabela is going to be rethinking several of her life choices after the next time I see her.”   
  
To her relief, Bethany is still laughing at her joke. If she’d been serious, Marian would have been _very_ worried about her little sister. “I wonder what it’d be like though,” says Bethany. “I suppose there are people who are into that sort of thing.”   
  
“I don’t really want to think about it.”   
  
“So he wasn’t that good looking then?”   
  
“Bethany... shut up.”   
  
She laughs again but otherwise seems willing to oblige.   
  
Marian takes a moment to wonder what she’s doing. It’s not the first time since making the offer to Fenris that she’s wondered if she was completely out of her mind to do so. Bethany is right about one thing: she has no real reason to trust him. Just a gut feeling when they spoke that he wasn’t lying to her. She’s simply going off his word that the kind of people he thinks deserve to die are slavers and other vampires. There’s also the realisation that he could have killed her the other week. Had the fight gone differently she wouldn’t have hesitated to kill him. But he chose to let her go. Even she couldn’t ignore that. He might be a vampire but all the evidence suggested they were somehow on the same side.   
  
“Is it really so strange?” she asks Bethany quietly. “Anders has Justice. He’s what most people would think of as an abomination and yet he’s one of our closest allies. Then there’s Merrill, our resident blood mage. And my own abilities aren’t that far off from vampires themselves. I mean, what’s one actual vampire joining the group?”   
  
Bethany raises an eyebrow but her expression is amused. “Oh certainly, when you put it that way, it sounds like he’ll fit right in.”   
  
Marian smirks. “What have our lives become?”   
  
“We never were destined for normalcy, were we? Not from the moment Dad renounced the Circle and he and Mum ran away together.”   
  
“Hmm. It’s all so appallingly romantic.” Bethany just smiles in response to Marian’s sarcasm.   
  
They arrive at the airport and by the time they’ve parked up and found the right terminal, Garrett’s flight is due in at any minute. They wait and try to find something normal to talk about that’s not vampires or illegal underground clinics. The best they can come up with is Bethany’s plans for dinner, which just goes to show how right she is about Hawkes and their general incompatibility with normal.   
  
When people start arriving from luggage collection, they need only look for the tallest, broadest, beardiest person in the crowd and sure enough it’s Garrett. Bethany waves and he beams at them as he approaches. As soon as they’re within reach he pulls both sisters into a huge bear hug. Marian is, typically, the first to force her way out of it. “Oh, Marian,” he says cheerfully. “You haven’t changed a bit.”   
  
He reaches out a hand to ruffle her hair and she swipes at it. “Try that again and you’ll lose it.”   
  
“I missed you too, tiny sister.”   
  
Marian is not tiny, not by anyone’s standards but Garrett’s. But, given that Garrett seems to thrive on annoying his siblings, she already knows there’s no point in telling him that. There is no surer way of getting a ridiculous nickname to stick.   
  
Bethany grins at him. “It’s good to see you Garrett.”   
  
“You too Bethy,” he replies, not hesitating to return her smile. She lets out a cry as he gives her another squeeze.   
  
After finally relinquishing his youngest sister, Garrett grabs his bag and they head out towards the car.   
  
“I almost can’t believe you’re here,” Bethany babbles as they walk. “I’ve already decided I’m going to make a big dinner to celebrate. Everyone’s coming. Ooh! You’ll finally get to meet Anders. Well, at least, I asked him to come. I suppose whether or not he shows is another thing entirely.”   
  
“He always sounds so mysterious. It’s all part of his charm, I assume,” muses Garrett.   
  
Marian turns to give him a look of baffled disdain, “ _What_ are you talking about? Actually, no. I don’t want to know. Let’s just get back to the car.”   
  
“You can tell us about Antiva on the way,” says Bethany.   
  
Unsurprisingly, there is a lot to tell about Antiva. They’re still going long after arriving back at the house, now with an open bottle of wine, perched around the kitchen table while Bethany makes a start on dinner. Merrill has joined them and has spent the past hour or so asking questions about Garrett’s travels and sighing wistfully at the answers as though she misses her own days of wandering Thedas.   
  
“If you’re craving adventure, you should come with me sometime, Merrill,” Garrett offers.   
  
“Oh,” says Merrill, in surprise, “but Hawke needs me here. I couldn’t leave now, could I, Hawke?”   
  
Marian blinks at her in surprise. “Merrill, your help is valuable to me, certainly, but I don’t think I ever said anything about you having to stay.”   
  
Merrill’s eyes widen, “But it isn’t that! I actually rather enjoy it. Fighting evil by moonlight and all that. Apart from the times when we’re nearly killed, that is.”   
  
“I’d put down the parts where we’re almost killed as _most nights_ ,” Marian comments drily but Merrill just shrugs.   
  
“Well, maybe those too then. It’s very exciting, anyway. And Anders always does a wonderful job of patching us up. You too, Bethany.”   
  
Bethany smiles. “Always glad to be appreciated.”   
  
Garrett looks around at them in amusement. “Sounds like quite the setup of crime fighting vigilantes. It does sound exciting. Makes me wonder why I stay away so often.”   
  
Before Marian can get in a jab at that comment, Bethany quickly speaks up, “You know, I don’t think vigilantes typically get paid by the city for their work.”   
  
Garrett just chuckles at that while Marian looks at Bethany knowingly.   
  
“So, tell me,” says Garrett, “what have I been missing here?”   
  
Marian shrugs and takes a sip from her wine before answering, “Oh, you know, wiping out vampire nests, rescuing kidnapped refugees from slaver holding pens, tackling the odd demon infestation. The usual. Kirkwall never changes.”   
  
Garrett raises an eyebrow judgementally. “Where’s that wonderful dwarf you usually have around? Varric. I like him. He’s always so much better at these things than you are.”   
  
At that, Bethany says, “Certainly, if you want to hear about Marian going around ripping doors off their hinges with her bare hands.”   
  
“She actually did do that once,” Merrill pipes up. “I saw it with my own eyes. It was amazing.”   
  
Garrett looks over at his twin. “You really are terrifying. You know that, right?”   
  
Marian smiles and this time the shark-like quality to it is entirely intentional. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”   
  
Garrett shudders. Then he looks around at the rest of the group. “Come on, that can’t be all there is. There must be something new going on around here.”   
  
They stop and look thoughtful for a while. Well, Bethany and Merrill do. Marian mostly looks bored, while Garrett looks distinctly unimpressed with the lot of them. Then Bethany says, “Well there’s always Marian’s possible crush on a vampire...”   
  
Both Garrett and Merrill’s heads whip around and they gape at Marian. She does the same, but her glare is directed at Bethany instead. “Bethany!” she snaps.   
  
“What is this, Hawke?” asks Merrill.   
  
At the same time Garrett says, “Now this is exactly the sort of thing I was asking about. Why have you been holding out on me?”   
  
“ _Exactly_ the sort of thing?” asks Bethany with obvious scepticism.   
  
Garrett just shrugs. “Well. Perhaps not exactly. But it’s good stuff. Tell me more.”   
  
“There is no crush,” Marian growls. “Bethany, I swear, just because you’re my favourite, doesn’t mean I won’t feed you in pieces to the mabari.”   
  
“Bethany’s your favourite?” pouts Garrett. “You mean I don’t get that spot by virtue of being your twin?”   
  
“No. You don’t.”   
  
Merrill asks, “Is this about the vampire from the other night? The one with the pretty eyes?”   
  
Garrett grins. “Oh this just keeps getting better. Are you sure it was a vampire? Aren’t they usually a bit...” he pauses to pull a tooth baring grimace, “...fangy?”   
  
“You know, that’s exactly what I said,” says Merrill. Garrett raises his eyebrows and gives her an approving nod.   
  
“Thank you for this, Bethany, really,” says Marian. “You know, I might be more inclined to tell you, if I knew you weren’t all going to be impossible about it.”   
  
“So there’s something to tell?” asks Garrett.   
  
Marian takes a breath and lets it out slowly, counting down as she does in a way that’s supposedly good for anger management. It only works slightly as well as she’d hoped. She tells them quickly, “There was a vampire. It’s nothing like Bethany says. I only talked to him because Aveline suspected he’d been involved in taking down a few of the slaver groups in the area. I’d thought at first that maybe he had some sort of arrangement with a rival group but it seems the guy just has something against slavers. Unusual for a vampire but not impossible to believe... He says he doesn’t like feeding on innocents.”   
  
Garrett looks at her doubtfully but it’s the closest she’s seen him to serious since the conversation started. “So he’s a good vampire?”   
  
“That’s simplifying things... but something like that.”   
  
“And you believe him?”   
  
Marian pushes back a wave of frustration, telling herself that it’s a perfectly reasonable question. “I’m not saying I’d bet my life on it. Certainly not your lives. He won’t be going near any of you... But, somehow, yes. I believe him. And I asked him if he’d be willing to work together.”   
  
They all stare at her in varying levels of disbelief. Then Garrett says, “You won’t risk any of us, but you will yourself? Alone? That’s just – Marian, if you meet this guy, I’m going with you.”   
  
“No. It was my idea to recruit him. It has to be my responsibility.”   
  
He stares at her long enough that Marian starts to wonder if she might actually prefer him when he’s making stupid jokes. It’s hard to say. His obvious concern is both unnecessary and frustrating. “You’re not indestructible,” he tells her. “If it’s a trap, you can’t just assume that you’ll be able to handle it on your own.”   
  
Stubbornly, she replies, “I’m closer to it than any of you. And I can handle one vampire.”   
  
“So can I,” insists Garrett. “It’s been a while since you saw me fight. I can handle myself. Anyway, it’s not one vampire I'm worried about. It’s if he decides to bring his friends along to ambush you.”   
  
Marian just glares at him. It’s a particular problem within the Hawke family: they’re all equally matched for stubbornness. Unfortunately for Marian, Garrett has Bethany on his side.   
  
“Marian, I think you should listen to him. It’s not that we don’t trust your judgement. Just that if something does go wrong you have a better chance of getting away if you’re not alone.”   
  
Marian lets out a frustrated sigh. “You know what, it doesn’t even matter because he hasn’t even agreed yet. He could very well be having the same reservations about me and deciding it’s not worth the risk.”   
  
She can tell by the look on Garrett’s face that he’s somehow taken this to mean that he’s won the argument. She sees him relax and he quips, “But you’ve got such a trustworthy face!”   
  
She grits her teeth as she glares at him. “What are you trying to say, Garrett, really?”   
  
Garrett just shrugs and Merrill says, “I’m not very good at these things but I think that might have been sarcasm. Am I right? Or am I getting muddled up again?”   
  
“Don’t think too hard about it, Merrill. Like many of the things that come out of Garrett’s mouth, it’s   
not worth the effort.”   
  
“Ouch,” Garrett laughs. “I swear you get meaner every time I see you. Is it something you practice at?”   
  
“Ugh, enough!” cries Bethany. “We all know you wind her up on purpose, Garrett. You used to do the same thing with Carver. It’s like you can’t help it. But right now, you’re giving me a headache... And, wow, is it just me, or did I just sound exactly like Mother?”   
  
“It’s uncanny,” agrees Garrett.   
  
Marian ignores them both. “So we’re in agreement? There’s no need to discuss it now. In the event that Fenris actually agrees to my offer, we can revisit the subject.”   
  
Garrett grins slyly. “So it’s Fenris now, is it?” Marian gives him a withering look. “No, look, I’m just curious. Where exactly did Bethany get the idea that you have a crush on him?”   
  
Marian sends another glare in Bethany’s direction and answers, “I think it’s clear that she’s been spending too much time with Isabela.”   
  
“Isabela’s lovely, though,” says Merrill.   
  
“It was a joke, Marian! If I'd known it would go this far, I wouldn’t have said anything.”   
  
Bethany gives her a beseeching look and Marian can’t quite keep herself from giving in to it. Though she tries, and the residual irritation is clear she mutters, “Yes, well... I just don’t appreciate being made into a fool.”   
  
“She has a reputation to maintain,” Garrett chuckles in his typically exasperating fashion. Her irritation with _him_ is rather more than residual.   
  
“Well, I _do!_ ”   
  
Bethany throws Garrett a look that’s half amused, half reproachful and utterly unhelpful. “We’re in agreement,” she answers to Marian’s earlier question. “Now I think a change of subject is in order.”   
  
Marian sighs. “Yes, _thank you_.” She doesn’t have it in her to be angry with Bethany when she’s apologising. No matter how empty her threats may be. Garrett, however, is still smirking and the glare she throws his way is threat enough. Not that it has much of an effect on him. Marian finds herself looking forward to getting out later and taking her frustrations out on any vampire stupid enough to cross her path. Perhaps a few of _them_ might have the sense to be afraid of her. Before she kills them, that is.   
  
And she supposes that’s the distinguishing factor, really. The less her family have to be afraid of, the better. Even if it means putting up with how relentlessly annoying they can be. However reluctantly, she has to admit it’s worth it.   


* * *

  
Anders doesn’t make it to dinner that night. He’d meant to, he really did, if only because Bethany had asked. Bethany is particularly difficult to say no to. It’s something to do with those wide brown eyes and that open, honest face. The way she radiates an aura of niceness that the other Hawke – that he’s met – can't ever seem to manage.   
  
But all of that goes right out of Anders’ head when a young woman who he’s been seeing throughout her pregnancy turns up at the clinic, having gone into labour. So really, it’s a wonder he gets out as early as he does. The clinic isn’t a hospital. Far from it. Most of the time this works because Anders is a skilled enough spirit healer that he can quickly patch up most patients by magic and send them on their way. The set-up isn’t quite ideal for patients who have to stay there for hours, or overnight, but then the people who show up here don’t tend to have any other choice. Anders makes do. He’s glad that at least his circle training can be used to help give his patients the best care he can manage.   
  
Now that Anders doesn’t technically live at the clinic anymore, he can use the back room that used to be his own personal space to afford the mother some privacy while he sees other patients. It needs a little preparation but it’s at least mostly free of his own belongings now. He still feels the need to apologise that he can’t do more for her. She’s a mage too, she confided that to him a few visits ago. And, like him, she was once registered with the Circle. Like him, she had to get away. She wouldn’t say why. But Anders has seen enough in his life that he barely has to wonder. It’s nearly always the templars. If she went to one of the Kirkwall hospitals, she’d be found. Anders knows from experience how much harder the Circles are on those who break their rules. The chances of her even getting to keep her child would be slim, especially in Kirkwall, with Meredith Stannard in charge.   
  
It’s late when he finishes tending to both mother and baby and to those additional patients that opted to wait for treatment, rather than come back another day. When he sends the woman off, he’s just glad she has a home to go back to and a family to take care of her. It’s more than can be said for a lot of unregistered mages, or those refugees that sleep rough on the streets of Darktown.   
  
Once the last patient leaves, Anders switches off the outside light and goes to make a start on cleaning up. Lirene, one of his volunteers – the other being Bethany – stops him. “You’ve been on your feet for hours. Take a break.”   
  
The suggestion is so welcome that Anders finds himself sinking into one of the waiting room chairs before he even has the chance to consider any reasons to keep going. But even as he sits, he starts going over them; he needs to get back to his manifesto tonight but before he can do that he needs to make sure the clinic is left in a sanitary condition for tomorrow’s patients.   
  
“When was the last time you ate?” asks Lirene, cutting into his thoughts.   
  
“I... uh...”   
  
“Okay,” she responds, taking his lack of concentration as an answer in itself, “do you have anything in, or should I head out and get you something?”   
  
“No, you don’t -” Anders breaks off as Bethany’s invitation to dinner suddenly comes back to him. He’s at several hours late. He sighs and rubs at his forehead with the tips of his fingers. At Lirene’s questioning glance, he explains, “I just remembered Bethany’s cooking dinner tonight. I was supposed to be there.”   
  
“Go,” is Lirene’s easy answer. “I’ll finish up here and see you in the morning.”   
  
Anders hesitates, thinking of his manifesto. But the memory of the last time he let Bethany down like this overwhelms those thoughts. It’s all in the eyes, he thinks, and he knows he’s not the only one the youngest Hawke sibling has wrapped around her little finger. Even Justice must have been somewhat charmed by Bethany because he can’t quite summon up any form of protest to Lirene’s offer.   
  
He gets to his feet. “Thanks, Lirene. I’ll have to make this up to you.”   
  
“You do enough,” she answers sternly. “Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow.”   
  
Anders says his goodbyes and heads out. He manages to scrape together enough change to get the bus to Hightown and ignores any thoughts of it being a frivolous use of the little money he has. He’s exhausted enough that he simply can’t face the uphill walk. The truth is, since Hawke’s visit last week, he’s only been back to the house once. Since then, he’s barely stopped and there’s only so far his Warden stamina and the boost Justice gives him can go.   
  
So, the bus it is. The alternative is fast food and the cot in the tiny backroom at the clinic, followed by the _I’m not angry, just disappointed_ look Bethany will give him tomorrow. He might get the look anyway but at least showing up late shows a certain amount of willingness compared to not showing up at all.   
  
When he arrives at the Hawke estate, things are quiet. The door to the library is ajar and there’s a light on inside so Anders goes to inspect. He finds Bethany there alone, in front of the fire, curled up in her favourite armchair with a book.   
  
“So... I take it I missed all the fun,” he says and Bethany looks up in surprise, clearly having not heard him enter. “Though, I don’t know, this looks rather nice. Cozy. Very relaxing.”   
  
“I had you down as a no show,” says Bethany, lowering her book.   
  
Anders gives her an apologetic look. “Something came up. If I said I helped to deliver a new life into the world today would that get me off the hook?”   
  
“You always have the best excuses,” answers Bethany with a small smile. “It puts the rest of us to shame.”   
  
Anders smiles back at her. “I don’t know... your healing is coming along wonderfully. I’m sure in no time you’ll be running the place.”   
  
“And flattery on top of it all! Very well, I forgive you. One condition though: drinks tomorrow? To celebrate Garrett’s return. I’m trying to get everyone to come.”   
  
He hesitates. He’s not sure that going out drinking is something he can afford, not to mention it’s the sort of indulgence Justice highly disapproves of... but then, perhaps all he needs to do is show up. In any case, Bethany is doing that thing with her eyes and he finds himself answering, “Sure. As soon as I can get away from the clinic, I’ll come and meet you.”   
  
Bethany beams at him. “Wonderful! I’ll let you know the details tomorrow. Right now, you look dead on your feet. There’re leftovers from dinner in the kitchen. Go help yourself.”   
  
That’s exactly what he was hoping she’d say. “Thanks Beth,” he replies with a tired grin.   
  
In the kitchen, he wolfs down his portion of leftovers then helps himself to several rounds of toast on top of that. It’s a wonder he forgets to eat at all really since when he remembers to, his appetite is as vast as any Grey Warden’s. It’s mostly down to Justice, he figures. The spirit’s combined energy and focus is what drives him most of the time.   
  
Once he’s done, he heads upstairs, trying to decide if he can muster the energy for a shower before bed. All thoughts of trying to get a little more done on his manifesto tonight have evaporated. It seems Justice has accepted that he has reached his limits for the evening. He reaches the top of the stairs onto the first floor landing then stops and blinks. It takes him a moment to be certain but, no, he’s not just imagining things, there really is a very attractive man standing at the other end of the hallway, just outside the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.   
  
Anders stares and the man looks back at him in surprise for a moment. Then his face breaks out into a grin. “Anders, I presume,” he says, crossing the space between them in a few strides and holding out a hand to shake.   
  
Anders takes another moment to let Bethany’s words from earlier sink back in. They were the reason he’d invited him out for drinks tomorrow and dinner tonight, also the reason she hadn’t been in the clinic today; because her brother was coming back from travels abroad. “Oh, you must be Garrett!” he replies, taking the offered hand and feeling slightly foolish that that took so long to register. Of course it’s him. Anders has seen this man in photographs all over the house. Younger, with longer hair, minus the neatly trimmed beard, but there’s no doubt this is the same man. Hawke’s twin. His eyes are warm brown where hers are icy blue but the resemblance is there far beyond the matching black hair.   
  
“So my sisters did mention me. That’s good. Maker knows I seem to annoy them often enough. I wouldn’t put it past them to pretend to have nothing to do with me.”   
  
His smile is warm and genuine, not unlike Bethany’s though there’s an air of confidence to it that would look out of place on his younger sister. Anders laughs at the joke. The warmth of Garrett’s greeting is almost enough to put him at ease. The near nudity is what keeps him from it.   
  
“I could say the same,” Anders remarks, while trying not to stare. “About Hawke – uh, Marian, anyway. Bethany’s patience seems never ending most days.”   
  
It’s not that Anders is uncomfortable with nudity. He’s a doctor, he’s used to it. But the thing about Garrett is... well for starters, he’s tall, at least as tall as Anders, but where Anders is lanky, Garrett is huge. Muscular. Distractingly so, given that he’s currently naked from the waist up.   
  
“I’m sure you can’t be that bad,” says Garrett. Anders doesn’t know what to say. He’s usually better at this. Talking. Knowing when to stop can be more of a problem. He wants to blame exhaustion but he thinks that may only be exacerbating his flustered silence more than being the underlying cause of it. He notes that Garrett’s chest hair is almost enough to rival Varric’s, dark and trailing down to disappear beneath his towel.   
  
“Hmm,” says Anders. “I - uh...”   
  
He’s spared from having to think of a way to make that sentence –whatever it might have been – actually happen by a familiar voice from the bottom of the stairs leading up to the second floor.   
  
“For fucks sake Garrett,” growls Marian Hawke, “put some bloody clothes on.”   
  
“Marian,” says Garrett cheerfully, “I was just getting acquainted with Anders. After I was just starting to think you’d made him up, here he is, out of nowhere.”   
  
“Acquainted, is that what you call it?” she turns her glare onto Anders. “His eyes are up there, by the way.”   
  
Anders’ face burns.   
  
“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything,” says Garrett.   
  
“I fucking wonder why,” Marian sneers.   
  
Maker, this is not a situation Anders feels in any way capable of dealing with right now. He just wants to go to bed. Just one night’s sleep and then he’s certain he can go back to being a functional human being, capable of forming full sentences and everything.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Anders tries for a laugh to brush off any awkwardness. “I’ve been at the clinic for... um...” how long again? “Suffice it to say you’re not really meeting me at my best.”   
  
Marian lets out a breath in a way that sounds only slightly exasperated. Her expression softens slightly, though given that _annoyed_ could well be considered her default, that’s not saying much. “Go to bed, Anders.”   
  
“Probably best if I do... It’s good to meet you at last, Garrett. We can talk properly tomorrow, I hope.”   
  
“Yeah, you too,” Garrett answers amiably. “Are you coming out for drinks with the rest of us?”   
Somehow, despite his tiredness, Anders notices that his earlier reluctance seems to have disappeared. “Definitely.”   
  
Garrett gives him a wide smile and it’s just so genuine –not to mention attractive- that Anders is nearly taken aback by it. “Great! I’ll see you then. Sleep well.”   
  
“Good night,” Anders says. He’s not quite able to stop his eyes drifting down one last time, at least until he snaps his gaze back up before turning around and finally fleeing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have Handers! Handers-to-be... Pre-Handers? 
> 
> Thank you all for reading/leaving kudos/comments! They make me so happy and you're all the best!


	5. Talk mage rights to me, baby

Garrett’s first day back in Kirkwall after several long months goes about as he’d expected. He gets up early despite having very little to do that day. It’s a habit he can’t seem to break. He always liked early mornings, before anyone else is up. Most other times, he likes people, he likes conversation. But there’s something so calming about sitting in a patch of morning sunlight with a book and a cup of tea. The quiet is always more welcoming in those hours. 

That first morning in Kirkwall is overcast. Garrett stands in the room that doesn’t feel like his room, despite all of his things from his childhood home neatly tucked away along the shelves, and peers at a bookshelf filled with familiar titles. He doesn’t expect it to make being back here feel normal but he selects one anyway and takes it down to the kitchen to read with that first cup of tea. 

He gets maybe half an hour to himself before Bethany joins him, then he makes breakfast for her and Merrill. Anders has apparently already left to open the clinic and

Marian won’t be up for a few more hours. But it’s nice, even if it is just the three of them. 

He spends the rest of the morning with Bethany and they decide to drive out along the coast with Dog and let him stretch his legs by the sea. It’s a good start to the visit.

Anything to fend off the usual restlessness that comes over him whenever he returns to Kirkwall. He’s already decided that he’s going to try to stick around longer this time. It’s what Bethany wants and he never likes disappointing her. Though Maker knows he’s done so often enough. 

This time will be different. 

It never used to be this way. Garrett being a disappointment to his siblings, that is. At least not to this extent. Marian generally refuses to say anything about it, but her disapproval radiates off her in silence. Even when they’re together there’s a certain kind of distance between them there never was when they were children – before Garrett left. After their father died, he was the only one who could teach Bethany how to control her magic. And he had tried, for a time. He’d stayed until he felt sure she’d be okay without him. But, looking back on it now, he knows he was too quick to convince himself when that time came. He’s not sure how likely it is Marian will forgive him for leaving when he did. With Bethany, though, he at least stands a chance. She never seems to hold anything against him. Garrett’s just not sure he deserves that. 

He’ll do better. Or he’ll try, at least. He can’t quite say he’s entirely confident in his chances of success, though that’s nothing to do with his sisters. Spending the morning at the beach with Bethany is great. They traipse along the coastal path and talk and even after last night there’s still plenty to catch up on. The problem is more _where_ he is. Even here on the coast he can feel it: there’s something so bleak about this place, about Kirkwall as a whole. The city itself is all looming grey brick buildings and an air of general misery. The presence of the Gallows doesn’t help. Of all those looming buildings, that one has to be the worst. Kirkwall’s former slave prison, turned mage prison. The building is owned by the circle and though they lock up fewer mages these days, it’s still the place where they stick those that are deemed out of control by the templars. There are too many parts of the city that have a view of that place. Garrett doesn’t know how Bethany can stand it.   
After their mother died, she and Marian could have sold the estate and gone anywhere. He’ll never understand why they didn’t. 

_“It’s what Mum would have wanted – for us to stay in the family home together,”_ Bethany explained once. 

_The family home was in Lothering_ , Garrett had thought, _not Kirkwall._

But Lothering is long gone now. Destroyed by the Blight. Garrett’s not even sure if he wants to know what might be left of his childhood home. 

He doesn’t doubt that Bethany was right. He just wonders sometimes whatever happened to that woman that followed Malcolm Hawke when he decided to turn apostate and run from the circle. Maybe their mother just lost too much when he died. Garrett supposes he can understand it. One thing they can all agree upon is that nothing was ever really the same after that. 

Whatever Garrett’s opinion of Kirkwall may be, it’s clear his remaining family have built a life here. He knows he should try harder to be a part of that. 

They head back to the house for lunch, then Bethany goes to the clinic for the afternoon. Garrett’s heard a little about the place and he’s curious to see it but given that he only met Anders last night –and in slightly awkward circumstances – he doesn’t think turning up uninvited to his clinic is the best way to go about their second meeting. Besides, he’d probably just get in the way. So he lets Bethany go alone. 

Marian’s only plans for the afternoon are to catch up with Varric over something work related. Varric can usually be found in his office at the back of The Hanged Man. Which is where everyone has agreed to meet for drinks later. It’s a good pub. Not the classiest place, but it has character and that’s enough to earn Garrett’s stamp of approval. Varric loves it. A few years ago, he told Garrett the story of how he’d come to own the place. Apparently, he’d been renting the flat above the pub for years while running several businesses out of it. It sounded as though it had been a nice setup until the previous owner found out. Varric’s solution for dealing with his angry landlord was apparently to just to offer him money. Enough to buy the place, as it turned out. A little excessive, Garrett always thought, but that’s Varric. Now he gets an office and everyone else gets a place to drink or play cards that they never have to worry about being kicked out of before they’re ready to leave. So it all worked out pretty well, really. 

When Marian tells Garrett that’s where she’s going, he decides right away to tag along. He’s always been a fan of Varric, after all. Since Bethany has the car, they opt to walk to Lowtown. It’s a fairly typical way of getting around for Marian and it suits Garrett too. They’ve both always been active people, preferring to be outdoors as much as they can. It’s just a matter of where they prefer to be outdoors that makes the difference between them. Marian doesn’t seem to mind the city and Garrett can’t understand that at all. 

They get to the pub and are about to head towards the backroom when Garrett spies a familiar face at the bar. Isabela spots them as they approach and a smirk breaks out on her face. “I wondered if I’d be seeing you here at some point,” she says to Garrett. 

He grins back at her. “Well, I could hardly stay away from such a fine establishment, could I?” 

Marian folds her arms and gives him a sarcastic look. “You mean aside from the past five months when you haven’t been here?” 

That’s just typical Marian, though. He knows better than to let her sarcasm deter him. Isabela is clearly just as familiar with it and only laughs. “Oh leave him be, Hawke. I, for one, approve of your brother’s adventurous spirit. Who can blame him for wanting to get out of this dump once in a while?” 

“Thank you, Isabela,” says Garrett. 

Marian remains unmoved. “Once in a while? That’s a better description for how often he comes back.” 

Isabela shrugs. “The details are unimportant.” 

“I expect everyone’s been missing me a great deal,” says Garrett solemnly. 

“I certainly have,” purrs Isabela and Marian rolls her eyes when Garrett winks back at her. 

She turns away from the bar, saying, “I’m going to see Varric.” 

Garrett replies quickly, “I’ll come with you!” 

Isabela pouts. “Leaving already?” 

“Not for long,” says Garrett with a smile. “Just going to pay a visit to my favourite dwarf and then I’m all yours.” 

Marian’s shrug is about as close to ‘you’re welcome to come’ as he’s likely to get from her. He follows her into the back room at the side of the bar, which serves as

Varric’s office. As she knocks and pushes open the door, Varric looks up. “Hawke, just the person I wanted to see.” 

Knowing that around his sister’s friends, ‘Hawke’ generally means Marian, Garrett says, feigning hurt, “Does that mean I’m not? I’m disappointed, Varric.” 

Varric looks to him and smirks. “Now, now, Chuckles, don’t be like that. You know you’re always a sight for sore eyes.” 

The dwarf gets to his feet and holds out a hand, but Garrett believes in giving proper greetings to his friends and pulls him into a trademark bear hug. Varric laughs at the enthusiasm and pats him on the back. “Yeah, I missed you, too.” 

“Good to know someone has,” says Garrett, letting him go. “Do you know how many times Marian has threatened me with bodily harm since I got back yesterday?” 

Marian has taken a seat by Varric’s desk and now she lounges back in it, looking at them coolly as though she sees no reason why she shouldn’t talk to her twin in such a way. 

Varric chuckles. “I wouldn’t worry about that. I can’t say it didn’t take me a while to get used to it, but threatening people with physical violence is just Hawke’s way. At this point, I’d be more worried if she stopped.” 

“Thank you, Varric,” says Marian. “It’s a relief to know that I can still count on you to be the voice of reason in these trying times.” 

“’Trying times’ meaning ‘sharing a house with your twin again’?” Garrett raises an eyebrow but he’s more amused than anything else. “You’ve got a point though, Varric. It’s her smile you’ve really got to watch out for.” 

“Yeah, I know the one,” Varric agrees. 

“What can I say?” says Marian with a shrug. “There’s nothing like the feeling of knowing the person you’re about to gut _really_ deserves it.” 

“I’ll have to take your word for that, Hawke,” Varric tells her. “But, speaking of people you might want to gut – or stake through the heart, at least – I have that information you were after.” Varric stops and glances uncertainly at Garrett, which only piques Garrett’s interest. 

Marian just waves her hand and responds, “He already knows. Bit late to be worrying about secrecy though, don’t you think? I mean, Isabela, Varric, _really_?” 

Varric looks sheepish. “I might have let that slip while fishing for details from her. I was curious. You know me, Hawke, I can never keep out of these things. You never know when there might be a good story involved.” 

Marian looks entirely unimpressed. “The lot of you are shameless gossips and you know it.” 

“As a professional storyteller, I take offence at being labelled so crudely,” says Varric, affronted. 

Marian rolls her eyes. Garrett watches in amusement and wonders how many times he’s seen her do that since their reunion. Doesn’t she ever get dizzy? 

“What’s the information, Varric?” 

Varric goes back around to his chair behind the desk and Garrett takes the opportunity to sit too. He hadn’t really intended to get involved with Marian’s work but now that he suspects it’s about that vampire, Fenris, he wants to know. He’s not about to let his sister walk into this situation alone, despite how she might protest his involvement. 

“I have confirmation on those bounty hunters. From Tevinter, it seems. A contact from Cumberland confirmed it, which makes it likely that Kirkwall is their next stop.” 

“Could they be here already?” 

Varric shakes his head. “Got someone keeping an eye on them. It seems they’re being thorough. Whoever is after this guy seems to want him pretty badly. But you could tell that much just from looking at him.” 

Marian nods, looking thoughtful. Garrett decides to voice a thought, “Want to fill me in on why Varric is tracking the whereabouts of Tevinter bounty hunters?” 

Marian looks at him evenly and answers, “Fenris... seems he’s on the run from someone.” 

“Someone from Tevinter,” Garrett confirms. He has to admit, he’s not liking the sound of this. In his travels, that’s the one place he’s generally avoided. Sure, the idea of being able to live freely as a mage, without the Circle watching his every move, sounds tempting but it really becomes less so when you consider that the place is crawling with vampires. Not to mention the slaves. Occasionally human, but mainly elves, all little more than a live-in food source for the vampires that basically rule the place. So learning that Marian’s new friend could be of those very vampires doesn’t sound great. “His clan, you think?” 

“Sounds about right to me.” 

“And you’re sure about this guy?” 

Marian sighs. “I told you, I can’t be. Not entirely. But it’s not what you’re thinking. He was an elf. How often do you hear of elf Magisters or whatever? It’s not a thing. And he has to be running for a reason. You have to admit, it’s an odd situation. Don’t you think it’s worth checking out?” 

She has a point there. And really, appealing to his sense of adventure is all she has to do. Unsurprisingly, his twin knows him well. “Okay, you’ve got me there. So, what’s the plan? What are we doing with this information?” 

Marian looks to Varric. “Those bounty hunters... they’re vampires?” 

“They are. Like I said, somebody really wants this guy. They aren’t messing around by sending mortals after him.” 

“You hear that?” she says to Garrett. “Sounds like there’s a new group of vampires heading towards Kirkwall any day now. And I know just the person to help us take them out. I’m hoping we’ll get to know him a little better in the process.” 

Garrett can’t quite help how easily he’s won over. “Okay,” he says. “I’m in.” 

“I suppose in this case, I can’t refuse the backup,” says Marian. To Varric, she adds, “Keep me updated on this. I need to know as soon as they’re heading our way.” 

“Whatever you say, Hawke. My guys are already on it.” 

“And if you see any sign of this Fenris, find a way to let him know I want to talk again. Plan’s no good if they show up and he’s got no idea about it.” 

“I’ll do that. Though I assume you’ll be taking them out either way. It could go down as a gesture of good faith,” suggests Varric. 

Marian shrugs. “But that just sounds so boring.” 

“And we’re all here to risk our lives against vampire bounty hunters as a potential bonding experience, how could I forget?” 

Garrett grins. “Speak for yourself. I feel as though my prospects for this visit just got a lot more interesting.” 

“It’s in moments like this I can actually see how you two are twins,” Varric comments dryly. 

“Heart-warming, isn’t it?” answers Marian, taking the words right out of Garrett’s mouth and making Varric chuckle. “Now then, I think it’s time we joined Isabela for a pint or two.” 

“Now there’s a plan,” agrees Garrett. “Coming, Varric?” 

“You two go ahead, I’ll be out in a few.” 

* * *

It hadn’t officially been the plan to spend the entire remainder of the afternoon drinking with Isabela and Varric, but given The Hanged Man was where they’d agreed to meet up later, and half the group is already there, it makes very little sense to head back to Hightown only to have to return later. When Isabela points this out, Garrett can see no flaw in her logic and needs no convincing to order another round. 

The others begin to trickle in as the evening progresses. Merrill first, coming straight from work at her Lowtown tattoo studio. Then comes Bethany, with Anders in tow. 

Apparently, Anders was the member of the group least expected to make an appearance. It doesn’t exactly surprise Garrett that they think that, given Anders has been friends with his sisters for at least three years and while Garrett has visited them, well, a handful of times in that period, yesterday was his first time actually meeting the healer. They’re probably equally responsible for that. Garrett for simply not being around enough, Anders for being busy with the clinic and his other responsibilities.   
Still, he’s heard a lot about him. A fellow mage who once belonged to the circle but has since turned his back on the corrupt organisation the same way Garrett’s father did. Garrett grew up hearing enough about the evils of the Circle to hate it on principle. He might never have been part of it himself but he has automatic respect for anyone unwilling to put up with the way mages are forced to live under it. But his admiration of Anders only grew when he heard how he’d taken his skills he’d learned during his time at the Ferelden Circle and applied it towards helping those who needed it most. Fellow apostates whose bad experiences at the hands of the Templars had left them too afraid to seek medical care at Circle sanctioned hospitals, refugees who simply couldn’t afford it, with nowhere else to turn because they weren’t considered Kirkwall citizens. Anders does what he can for them. 

Garrett has always wanted to meet the man. Granted, last night hadn’t exactly been how he pictured it going down. It could have gone worse, he supposes. But it would have been preferable if Marian hadn’t appeared and started yelling at them. Perhaps also if he had been wearing clothes. 

It hardly matters though. Tonight is the perfect opportunity to make up for that. Garrett looks up from his conversation with Varric just at the moment Bethany arrives. He throws a grin in the direction of his youngest sister before noticing Anders behind her. He looks in slightly better shape than he did yesterday. The exhaustion that was clear on his face last night has faded somewhat. He's switched his neat work shirt and pants for pair of dark trousers and a t-shirt. Over that, he has on one of the most interesting jackets Garrett has ever seen. Teal, with a gold trim and grey feathers - actual feathers – on the shoulders. His longish strawberry blonde hair has been scraped back into a messy bun and his jaw is lined with dark blonde stubble. 

It's not what Garrett had pictured when he’d imagined the man behind the stories Bethany told him. But now he considers it, he’s not really sure what he'd thought to expect. No one had ever bothered to tell him how attractive Anders is. Probably because they thought it irrelevant. It should be irrelevant really. But Garrett can't quite help noticing. Especially when Anders returns his welcoming smile and says, “Hey. It’s good to see you again.” 

“You made it!” coos Merrill before Garrett can reply. “I don't remember the last time I saw you out with the rest of us.” 

Anders shrugs off the remark with a smirk. “Bethany can be quite persuasive when she wants to be.” 

“I thought Bethany might have had something to do with it,” says Marian. 

“It happens to all of us at some point,” Garrett chips in. 

Anders smiles at him again. It's a nice smile. His eyes too. Golden brown, somewhere between shades of honey and whiskey. “It’s the puppy eyes, right? They get me every time.” 

Bethany gives Anders an amused look. “Not _every_ time. Or I’d have been able to introduce the two of you a lot sooner than this.” 

“We got there eventually, at least,” says Garrett. 

Bethany and Anders sit and they chat for a bit about their day at the clinic. It’s a little while before Garrett gets a chance to properly talk to Anders. When Bethany gets up to get a drink, he shifts over into her seat. 

“So last night wasn’t quite how I’d expected our first meeting to go,” says Garrett 

Anders raises his eyebrows. “You had expectations?” 

Garrett laughs. “Sort of? I don’t know. I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“Ah. Same with you. It’s taken a surprising amount of time to get to the actual meeting part, considering.” 

Garrett grins cheekily. “Hopefully it was worth the wait.” 

Anders lets out an embarrassed laugh but his eyes are bright as he looks back at Garrett. “I had no complaints.” His smile is playful in a way that Garrett finds himself really appreciating. He’d not expected that at all actually. It’s probably not a good idea to go there. He’s not sure how impressed either of his sisters would be if they caught him flirting with their friend and housemate. A glance around tells him Bethany is still at the bar with Merrill, while Marian’s attention is focused on a conversation with Varric and Isabela. Still, he should at least _try_ to behave. 

“Well that’s good to hear. I _had_ been planning to apologise. I wasn’t really expecting company when you found me last night.” 

“Nor was I. Though I might have made that obvious...” Anders says with a slight wince.   
Garrett flashes a grin in return. “Not at all. I have that effect on a lot of people.” 

So much for behaving. The words are out of his mouth before he can even think of a single less obnoxious thing to say. But Anders just laughs. Making him both attractive and willing to laugh at Garrett’s terrible jokes. So that’s... interesting. 

He takes a sip of his beer and starts to think that he should change the subject to be safe. But Anders beats him to it. 

“I’d love to hear about your travels. You were in Antiva last, weren’t you?” 

It’s a request Garrett is happy to oblige. He feels as though he’s been talking about Antiva non-stop since he got back but it hardly seems like a chore to repeat himself for a handsome doctor. A thought Garrett manages to keep from saying aloud. Though it’s admittedly a close thing. “I was. It’s a beautiful place. I was working there for a while, just odd jobs mostly, but I got to travel around a bit too.” 

“Do you always travel alone?” Anders’ expression is open, interested. It’s good to see. After waiting so long to meet him, Garrett is glad for how easy he is to talk to. 

“I pick people up from time to time. You meet all sort of interesting people just going about from place to place. You know, I even ran into the Hero of Ferelden a few months back. That was pretty amazing actually.” 

Anders looks more pleasantly surprised than impressed. “Oh really? How is she?” 

That stumps Garrett a little bit. “Okay... that’s not the response I usually get when I tell people that.” 

Anders smirks, a knowing look in his eyes. “Sereda and I go way back. She was my commander back when I was in the Wardens.” 

Garrett’s eyes widen. “You were a Grey Warden? In Ferelden?” 

“I was. But I know what you’re wondering and no I wasn’t involved in fighting the Blight. I was one of the new recruits they picked up afterwards. Helped to put the country back together again.” 

It’s still sounds like a much more important job than anything Garrett’s picked up over the years. “Well that makes _my_ most impressive anecdote sound a lot less interesting than it usually is.” 

Anders chuckles. “Sorry about that. I... haven’t actually spoken to the Commander in a while. I didn’t really leave the Wardens on the best terms...” 

The way his voice trails off, Garrett isn’t sure if he should ask about it. “She seemed to be doing well,” he offers cheerfully. “She was taking some time off with her husband to visit a friend.” 

Her friend, Zevran, was how Garrett had come to meet Sereda and Alistair. Garrett’s known him for a few years now, after Isabela put them in touch. They’ve since come to know each other... quite well, actually. It’s nothing serious but Garrett always enjoys their meetings. 

“That’s good to hear. She was a good commander. Took the job seriously when she had to but she was laid back the rest of the time. That alone was an improvement from the hospital I’d been working at before then.” 

He doesn’t have to elaborate. Hospitals are nearly always Circle run. Packed with Templars and an inadvisable place to be for any unregistered mage who wants to stay that way. Still, if life as a Warden was better, it makes Garrett wonder, “And yet you left?” 

Anders’ lips twitch uncomfortably. “It couldn’t really be helped. And Commander Aeducan was away at the time so...” 

Garrett realises too late that he probably should have stuck to his earlier decision not to ask invasive questions to someone he’s only just met. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry there.” 

“It’s alright,” Anders says, forcing a smile. “I’d be interested in hearing more about the places you’ve been. I’ve always wanted to go to Rivain myself. Isabela’s told me a little about it but I imagine it’d be different as... well, you know.” 

As a mage. It’s clear from the way he lowers his voice that he’s wary of broadcasting the information. Though he seems to be aware that Garrett’s one too. Rivain is known for being a lot less restrictive than other countries towards mages. Maybe not to the same extent as Tevinter but still noticeably so. It’s always been one of

Garrett’s favourite places to visit. An excellent alternative to the vampire capital of Thedas. He tells Anders so. “Usually I’ve found the best way not to be noticed is not to stay in one place for too long. It’s easier in Rivain though. I can’t let my guard down entirely but it’s easier to get to know people without fearing that they’ll turn me in if they find out about me.” 

Anders looks impressed. “I can’t say I’ve ever had that experience. Outside of present company anyway.” 

“I suppose I’m glad my sisters took you in then.” 

“Yeah...” agrees Anders and his lips turn up at the corners but there’s something slightly sad about it. He glances over at Marian for a moment before turning his eyes back to his barely touched pint. 

Garrett doesn’t quite know what that’s all about. He wonders if it’s another thing he shouldn’t ask. It occurs to him that most of what he’s heard about Anders has come from Bethany. Marian doesn’t talk about him much. But that’s not entirely unusual. Marian doesn’t talk much at all usually, except to make threats, or the odd sarcastic comment. Still, even if there is something to it, Garrett figures it’s none of his business. 

He asks, “Think you’ll ever make it to Rivain someday?” 

The question succeeds in bringing Anders back from whatever thought had distracted him. “Who knows... I used to think about it a lot when I was younger. And it wasn’t through lack of trying that I never ended up there. I used to have all kinds of adventures during my Circle days.” 

Garrett raises an eyebrow as he tries to figure out if Anders is being sarcastic or not. “That doesn’t sound like any version of the Circle I’ve ever heard about.” 

“Well they didn’t make it _easy_. But I managed to escape a few times from the home they stuck me in. I always got dragged back after anything from a few days to a few weeks but I did at least make it to Denerim once.” 

There’s one other thing Bethany never included in her stories about Anders. Garrett has heard about the Circle run children’s homes. Horror stories mostly. He didn’t know Anders had been raised in one. He doesn’t quite know what to say to the revelation. 

Anders continues, “I always thought maybe if I ever made it to Rivain – stowed away on a boat or something – the templars would decide it wasn’t worth the effort following. Hearing your stories sort of reminds me of back then... it’s good to know it’s doable anyway, living the way you do. I might not ever get to try it myself.” 

Garrett’s still a little stunned. Not sure what to say. He goes with, “Well, I mean, you _could_...” 

Anders smiles ruefully. “Not while things are the way they are here. My duty is to the people of Darktown.” 

Up until this point, Garrett has been so absorbed in his conversation with Anders, he’s barely aware of anyone else around the table. But apparently, they’ve gained an audience at some point. Before Garrett has a chance to respond, Isabela interrupts with, “Oh you’re so bloody dramatic sometimes! Garrett’s been here five minutes and you’re already starting on at him about _the cause?_ Let him have a drink and relax for a bit first will you?” 

Anders bristles and turns to frown at Isabela, “I really don’t see how what we talk about is any of your business. Besides I’ve barely even mentioned ‘the cause’.” 

Isabela narrows her eyes, “You wanted to though, didn’t you?” 

Before Anders can respond, Garrett decides to intervene, “You know, I’ve heard a little about it from Bethany and I have to say, I’m all for it.” 

Isabela throws up her hands. “Well, I tried. If you two want to sit in your own little corner and have mage conversations then be my guest, I suppose.” 

“Oh, can we not?” groans Marian. 

Anders turns his frown on her. “But you _agree_ with me!” 

She looks entirely unmoved by this. “I know I do. But that doesn’t mean I feel like hearing it for the hundredth time. You already know you’re preaching to the choir with us.” 

It’s impossible to miss the hurt in Anders’ expression this time and again, Garrett’s not quite sure how to intervene with that. He looks about to see if anyone else is going to say anything. Merrill at least looks slightly awkward, while Bethany looks as uncertain as Garrett feels. 

“Never mind, Blondie,” says Varric. “Maybe leave the work back at the clinic for now. You haven’t even touched your drink. Where’s the justice in wasting a perfectly good pint?” 

Anders’ expression tightens slightly at the question but eventually he sighs. “Fine. Another time.” 

Garrett is still taking in the range of expressions around the table, Isabela looking smug, Marian bored, Bethany smiling sympathetically. Well, if no one else is going to step in... 

“I don’t know why we shouldn’t talk about it. Mages are basically given the choice of having their every move watched by an organisation that is morally dubious at best, or sacrificing basic human rights out of fear of being found out. It needs to be said.” 

Anders looks at him, suddenly a lot less dejected. “Exactly! Too many people are willing to let it slide because of reformations made fifty years ago. Just because they stopped making us Tranquil, or killing us for failing our Harrowings, they think we should be satisfied with what we have. As though the Harrowings themselves weren’t a gross violation of the mind of any mage forced to go through one.” 

Marian sighs. “Here we go...” 

Anders narrows his eyes at her. “Meredith would go back to the way things used to be in a heartbeat if we let her, you know. She’s made comments before about how much more expensive the Harrowing process is now that they have to invest in lyrium to go into the fade and rescue any mage that fails. And yet there’s never any talk of just doing away with the tradition entirely.” 

Garrett hadn’t heard about that but he’s not really sure how much can actually surprise him anymore with those people. “I’d heard the Templar Commander here is a real piece of work.” 

“Any progress the Circle might have made towards listening to the needs of the mages supposedly under its care has been set back in Kirkwall by years. She hates us and she doesn’t even seem to care if she shows it.” 

“So, what have you been doing to work against her?” Garrett asks. 

Anders glances about uncertainly before answering, “I... I’m not sure I should speak about it here. But if you want to know, we can talk back at the house some time.” 

“Of course! I mean, I definitely want to hear about it...” he trails off as he catches Marian’s disapproving glare from across the table. He stares back at her. “What?” 

“Nothing,” she grunts before turning away. 

He can’t quite figure out if that was weird or if it was just Marian being her usual surly self. And when he turns back to Anders he’s not surprised to see the look of quiet frustration there. Garrett doesn’t quite understand why Marian’s being this way, either. She has no more love for the circle than any of them. 

But maybe it’s a conversation for another time. In any case, Garrett decides it’s time to get in another round. 

They stay a while longer at The Hanged Man and the conversation drifts to less political topics. Garrett understands why the others prefer that. He’s definitely one for making light of things whenever he can. But he can’t help but respect Anders for his willingness to talk about these things. Somebody should. The fact that Anders is so passionate about it makes him all the more interesting to Garrett. 

When they leave the pub, it not because they’re done with the night, but because Isabela wants to dance and Garrett, never one to say no to drunkenly making a fool of himself in public, seconds the proposition. Then Merrill says she knows a place where live band should be playing right about now and the more reluctant among them agree that would be preferable to bad club music. Garrett tends not to be picky but he does agree that the club scene in Kirkwall leaves a lot to be desired. 

As they go, Anders stops him privately and says, “I wanted to say thank you for sticking up for me before.” 

Garrett looks at him in surprise. “Hey, no problem.” 

“I just... it becomes so obvious sometimes that they don’t really get it. I mean, Bethany and Merrill do. But still, Merrill seems to have her own way of looking at things most of the time. And the others... they don’t realise how rare it is to find someone who actually agrees with me about all this.” 

Garrett’s smile softens slightly. “I get it. Well, as much as I can really get it. I grew up thinking the circle was bad news, Bethany and Marian too. But none of us have ever seen it from the inside. If you want to talk about how shitty the whole system is, go ahead. I’ll listen all you want. And if there’s anything I can do to help... well, you know where to find me.” 

Anders stares, lips slightly parted, possibly rendered speechless. Which makes Garrett grin back at him and clap him on the arm. “Hey, I know. Too good to be true, right?” He laughs. 

Anders closes his mouth then shakes his head, smiling. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it.” 

Garrett grins wider. “Come on. We should catch up with the others.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up cutting this chapter off a bit earlier than I originally intended after getting carried away writing dialogue once again. The next chapter is one of the few that I skipped over when writing the original draft. I've made a decent start on it but there's quite a bit that still needs to be written. Hopefully I'll manage to keep up with the usual Thursday update next week but I wanted to give a heads up just in case I do fall a bit behind with it.  
> Thank you again to everyone reading this and to those who've left feedback! I really love hearing from you all. It's really wonderful encouragement!


	6. There goes the night off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay with this chapter! I had more trouble than I expected just trying to concentrate on editing it. I'll admit I kind of gave up towards the end. I think I should be able to get back on track for the next chapter though. There will be some action and the plot should start to move along a bit soon. If kind of slowly. I hope you'll enjoy it anyway! Thank you all for reading and for leaving kudos and comments! It's so appreciated!

Marian isn’t usually one for drinking in places with loud music and too many people but she’ll grudgingly admit that the bar Merrill suggested isn’t the worst place they could have ended up. The band isn't bad and the beer is cheap so she’ll take it, even if she would have preferred just to stay at The Hanged Man. 

Most of the others have wandered off to watch the band and dance, while Marian has stayed behind with the other members of the group who don’t see why going for a night out with friends should have to involve leaving the comfort of their seats for anything other than getting in another round of drinks. 

She and Anders are in the process of teasing Varric for his aversion to loud rock music when Marian is distracted mid-sentence by a familiar sensation she’d hoped not to feel tonight. Of course there’s a vampire here somewhere. Because it would be too much to ask for just one night off. 

She sits up straight, casting her gaze slowly over the dim room, trying to locate the source of the uneasy feeling down her spine.

Somehow, Varric beats her to it. “Hey, isn’t that your friend over there?”

He points and suddenly Marian sees him. Fenris. What in the void is Fenris doing here?

His eyes meet hers from across the room and she glares back at him. “Wait here while I deal with this,” she tells the others.

Then she gets up, passing a bewildered Garrett on her way to where Fenris stands. 

“Tell me it’s a coincidence that I’m running into you here,” she says to Fenris when she reaches him. He raises a questioning eyebrow and doesn’t answer right away, so Marian goes on, “Because if it turns out you’ve been following me, I’m really not going to like that.”

Fenris manages to look completely unruffled by her veiled threats. Though that’s not to say he looks relaxed. He holds himself the same way he did the last time they talked. On alert, as though he might bolt at any moment. He’s dressed the same too, in a black leather jacket over a charcoal hoodie, but for once, the hood is pushed down, revealing his long ears and white hair. She can also better make out the white tattoos that crawl up his neck to curl around his chin, along with the green eyes that meet hers only briefly before sliding away.

He asks, “Did you expect me to take your word for everything you told me the other day without investigating for myself whether it was true?”

She folds her arms over her chest and still isn’t quite done glaring. “What?”

“There is somebody looking for me,” he explains, tone matter of fact. “I could not agree to work with you without first being certain that you do not work for him.”

She takes a moment to let that sink in and realises that she probably should have expected that. “That… okay, that checks out.” It doesn’t mean she isn’t annoyed at him following her. But she can’t really blame him for not simply taking her at her word. He looks at her questioningly again and she elaborates, “I might have done some investigating of my own.”

“And what did you learn?” His green eyes flick back up to hers but only for a moment before shifting away again. Somehow she still feels the intensity of his stare.

“Only what you already asked Anso for. Bounty hunters from Tevinter right? You wanted to know how close they were to finding you. I can’t give you an exact date but I have a reliable source that can find that out in time to be ready for them.” She smiles, showing her teeth. “If you’re up for it, I’ll even help you kill them.” 

He tenses and his eyes flash again. “Why would you do that?”

“It’s my job, remember? I’m going to take them out either way, but I figured it’d be something you’d want in on. Think of it as a trial to see how well we can work together.”

She watches him consider. “You are certain about this? That you want me to work with you?”

She shrugs. “I wouldn’t go that far. But I’m willing to give it a try… If you’ve decided you can trust me that is.”

His answer comes slowly, “I have not seen any reason to disbelieve what you told me last time we talked.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Good to know stalking me paid off for you.” She’s still not exactly forgiven him for that.

“I am sorry that it came to that. But I have worked too hard for my freedom to risk it. I will not walk blindly into a trap set by those who hunt me. If it helps, I would ask that you assist me with killing these bounty hunters and I will do what I can to prove that I mean you and your family no harm.”

Marian nods slowly. “Sounds like a deal.” 

It’s not exactly what she had been expecting when she walked over here. She’d meant to give him a piece of her mind for following her while she’s with her family.

But now he’s just coming across as so damn reasonable. Not to mention unflappable. Her threats glance off him like they’re nothing. She’s used to that from her family, not near strangers. 

“I’m not talking about it here though,” she continues. “Let’s meet tomorrow at The Hanged Man. Meet me there at nine and we can come up with a plan.”

Fenris nods. “Then, for now, I will leave.”

“Appreciated,” answers Marian and she can’t help if it comes out a little harsher than necessary. Fenris doesn’t take it to heart though, if the brief smirk that touches his lips is any indication. He takes his leave and Marian turns around to face the three men now staring at her from the table she’d left a few minutes ago.

* * *

Anders watches Hawke walk away from their table, then looks to Varric and asks, “What’s going on exactly?”

Varric had mentioned a friend of Hawke’s, which was odd because as far as Anders is aware, all of Hawke’s friends are out with them tonight.

“You mean you don’t know?” is Varric’s quick response. “I thought everyone had heard about it.” Which can’t mean anything good.

Before Anders can ask him to elaborate, Garrett appears, beating him to it, “Heard about what? And where’s Marian off to? She’s got that ‘murder’ look in her eyes, which while not unusual, _is_ somewhat concerning.” 

He steps around to their side of the table and takes the seat between Anders and Varric that Marian just vacated. Varric makes a gesture over to the opposite side of the bar, where Hawke is headed and says only, “Take a look for yourself.”

They watch as Marian approaches a scowling, yet alarmingly handsome elf. He waits beside the far wall of the bar, dressed head to toe in black. His hair is a shock of white in the dark room, as are the tattoos that stand out against his light brown skin. When Marian stops in front of him, adopting a stance that is typically… if not outright aggressive, then certainly non-friendly, he seems to respond as though he knows her. Which doesn’t necessarily mean anything, Anders reminds himself. Hawke probably knows plenty of people Anders doesn’t. She never talks about any of them. But, again, that doesn’t _mean_ anything. 

It shouldn’t matter. There’s nothing between Hawke and him anymore. Anders needs to get used to that. 

“Who exactly…” begins Garrett, “That’s not _him_ , is it? _Fenris?”_ He looks to Varric for confirmation and Anders glances between them, wishing someone would tell him what they’re talking about.

“The very same,” Varric replies. “I recognise him from when he showed up at The Hanged Man the other night.”

Garrett turns and stares. “Oh no,” he says. “He _is_ hot.”

“Could somebody please tell me who this Fenris is supposed to be?” Anders finally asks.

Garrett leans in, his arm brushing against Anders’, and beckons for him to do the same. For the first time tonight, Anders notices that Garrett is fairly tipsy. He says conspiratorially, “Fenris is a vampire. One who my sister may or may not have a crush on.”

And Anders’ heart finally plummets right down into his stomach. “What?” he sits up and looks back to Hawke and the strange elf she’s talking to. “You can’t be serious.”

“Well, it’s up for debate. I heard it from Bethany, who heard it from Isabela. So who knows what’s really going on. And Maker knows Marian would never admit to such a thing.”

Anders turns to stare at him incredulously. “And you’re seriously okay with that? Hawke’s over there, talking to a vampire and for some reason, we’re just supposed to pretend like that’s normal?”

“Trust me, Blondie, nobody thinks this is normal,” says Varric.

Garrett looks repentant and sits up, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “I mean, Varric’s right. I can admit I’m a bit freaked out about it too. But what am I supposed to do? If Marian wants to do this, I can’t exactly stop her.”

Something about this really isn’t adding up. Anders has known Hawke for long enough to say with complete certainty that the idea of her having any kind of romantic feelings towards a vampire makes no sense whatsoever. There must be more to this. “What exactly _is_ she doing?”

“Well, she’s… recruiting him, I suppose. _Potentially_ recruiting him?” Garrett looks uncertainly at Varric. 

“I don’t know. Looks like things are going pretty well over there.”

Anders looks. Hawke is standing with her feet apart, arms folded over her chest, glaring. Given that’s a pretty standard level of hostility from her, it’s entirely possible that they’re having a civil conversation. Though the elf - the _vampire_ \- doesn’t look much friendlier than her. That is until his lips turn up into a small, brief, smile at something Hawke says. A moment after that, he turns and walks away. And Hawke turns to see the three of them watching her. 

“You told him?” is the first thing she says when she gets back to the table. “Does the word ‘secrecy’ mean nothing to you.”

Varric holds up his hands, “Hey, I figured Blondie would find out about it sooner or later. Apparently, everyone else already has.”

“Yes, thanks to you,” Hawke grumbles.

Varric ignores this and adds, “Besides, your brother did most of the talking.”

Hawke shifts her glare to Garrett, eyes narrowing considerably. Garrett tells her, “In my defense, I am rather drunk right now.”

Anders, who has been watching the discussion with a growing frown, decides to speak up, “I would really love to know why I am apparently the only one not to be told about this.”

She finally turns her scowl to him. “If you’d turned up to dinner last night you’d have found out with everyone else when Bethany announced it to the whole room,” is Hawke's grumpy retort. “You’re really not getting special treatment over this.”

Except, why doesn’t Anders believe that?

He knows for a fact that Hawke goes to special efforts to keep him at a distance in every other situation. Why would this be any different? She can deny all she wants but he’s not stupid. He sees what she’s doing. How she’ll do everything she can to tell him she doesn’t return his feelings except bloody _talk_ about it. He gets it. But it’s not like he can ever get a word in on the subject to tell her so.

And right now is really not the time for that. So instead of bringing it up, he asks, “So you’re recruiting a vampire. Why?”

She takes a gulp of her drink and glares at a point past Anders’ head. “It’s complicated.”

“It sounds it,” he mutters, even knowing she won’t hear him over the band that is still playing. He doesn’t want to ask about what Garrett said about her having a crush because he knows he’ll only sound jealous. He probably is - as ridiculous as it sounds to think he might be jealous of a vampire. 

The table descends into what would be stubborn silence if not for the loud music playing in the background. At least until it’s broken by Varric, saying, “You want to take this one, Chuckles?”

“Me?” says Garrett. “Uh… Well, Marian says he’s a good vampire.” 

Anders turns yet another incredulous stare upon him. Does he actually believe that, or is he joking again? Anders has to admit, it’s hard to tell with him.

“I didn’t fucking say that, Garrett,” growls Hawke.

“I was reading between the lines!”

“Well, _don’t!_ ”

“He’s a vampire who kills bad guys and doesn’t feed on innocents, right? That’s what you said.”

There’s a sort of tick pulsing away in Hawke’s jaw that usually means she’s working hard to keep her patience. “That’s what he told me. All I said was that the evidence seems to suggest it’s true.”

Garrett rolls his eyes. “Well, how is that any different from what I said?”

Marian is too busy glaring to respond right away so Varric quickly intervenes saying, “You know, I think we should probably avoid getting into these kinds of discussions when Sunshine isn’t around to play mediator.”

Anders is hardly paying attention at this point. His frown has deepened as he takes into account everything he knows about vampires. It just doesn’t make any sense. Anders isn’t exactly one to put much stock into Chantry teachings. He can’t, with him and Justice being what they are. But he knows about vampires. They are demons of hunger, driven only by the need to feed. Occasionally, they might retain something of their past selves, who they were before their human minds were taken over by a demon. The stronger the host’s connection to the fade, the more likely that is. But Anders has never heard of a vampire being able to control their hunger for any length of time. If it were possible, he’d know. He takes a breath and tries not to let the thought unsettle him. He _would_ know.

“You okay there?” asks Garrett suddenly, surprising Anders with his concern. He hadn’t realised he was being so obvious.

“Yeah, I…” he glances back at Hawke, “I just don’t get it. Why would you risk it?”

Hawke shrugs and is slow to answer. “Just going with my gut.”

Anders watches her face, trying to figure out if he’s missing something. If there’s something she’s trying to keep from him.

Then Garrett says, “Marian’s planning to take out a group of bad vampires - or the regular kind of vampires? Vampires that are after her friend anyway. She figured that working together, we might figure out what his deal is. You should come with us.”

Hawke heaves a deep, slow sigh and turns to look at her brother. 

“What? Anders is a healer and a Grey Warden. If we bring him, we’ll have no problem with those vampires.”

While Garrett’s confidence in him is nice to hear, it’s difficult for Anders not to be distracted by the look of annoyance on Hawke’s face. “Do you have a problem with that?” he can’t help but challenge her.

She looks at him. “You actually want to come?”

It’s not an unusual thing to ask. While Anders will usually go along for any job Hawke needs him on, he has been known to say no to plenty of the more routine patrols. Maybe he’s just feeling defensive, but he can’t help but feel she’s being antagonistic towards him. He tries not to let it get to him knowing that if it gets to the point where he feels the need to walk away, he’s likely to regret it. 

He wants to trust her judgement, he really does. But he can’t help but think she’s being reckless. 

“Yes,” he tells her firmly. “I don’t like this but I know I won’t be able to talk you out of it. So if I can help, at least that’s better than worrying about it.”

Hawke shrugs and Anders suspects her indifference is mostly feigned. “Then the more the merrier, I suppose,” she answers in a sarcastic drawl. 

Anders feels himself losing patience. “Do you really not want me to come?”

No matter how much he goes over it, he doesn’t understand why it always has to be like this with them. It’s not exactly putting Justice into the best mood either. It’s always harder to pick out Justice’s feelings the closer they are to his own. Most of the time he doesn’t bother trying. Justice is a part of him so he sees no point in trying to make that distinction between them. But he’s always made an exception with Hawke. Otherwise, it gets confusing trying to process how differently he and Justice see her. Justice respects Hawke for her work as a hunter. But he doesn’t approve of the way Anders feels about her. And Anders doesn’t really blame him at this point.

Justice had already been frustrated back at The Hanged Man, with Hawke’s careless dismissal of their cause. All the more so, because Hawke has always been an ally to them. It was difficult enough for Anders not to take it as a betrayal. If Garrett hadn’t spoken up when he did, he might have had to leave. Not because his friends were in any danger from him, thank the Maker, but because trying to relax and enjoy himself while sharing his mind with an angry spirit hardly feels worth the effort sometimes. Justice has been on edge all evening and he wishes Hawke would just make it easy for them this once.

Maybe something of this does get through to her though. She meets his eyes for some time then looks away before speaking. “I wanted to go alone,” she finally admits. “I didn’t want to risk any of you because if something goes wrong, if one of you gets hurt, that’s on me.”

Anders feels some of his irritation cool. Not all of it, because she’s still being an idiot, if you ask him. But finally getting an honest answer out of her goes a long way towards making him not want to tear his own hair out in frustration. Still, he has to ask, “So why go through with it at all?”

And the wall goes back up. Hawke shrugs. “It doesn’t matter now. Those vampires are coming either way and need to be taken care of. Fenris is already involved. He made a promise that none of us are in danger from him but that doesn’t mean we let our guards down. Either he keeps that promise, or I kill him. It’s as simple as that.”

Well, at least that still sounds like the Hawke Anders knows. “Then I’m coming,” he tells her firmly. “You don’t want people to get hurt, and Garrett was right: that’s a lot less likely if you have a healer with you.” And apparently he’s not completely done with feeling annoyed because he can’t keep himself from adding, “At least _he_ seems to have some sense.”

A grin spreads slowly over Garrett’s face at that. “I like you,” he announces cheerfully. “Nobody ever usually accuses me of having sense.”

He turns to look at his sister with a smug expression, to which she replies, scathingly, “Do you really want me to respond to that, Garrett? I swear you make it too easy sometimes.”

Garrett looks affronted, exaggeratedly so. “That is not true. You just have a talent for being mean.” He turns to Anders. “Honestly, you don’t know what I have to put up with sometimes.”

Anders raises an eyebrow but chooses not to comment. He’s already made his point and occasionally he does manage to muster up the forethought to quit while he’s ahead.

“You can come. Both of you. Because this time I need the backup. But if anything happens I’m going to be pissed.”

“So business as usual, then?” Anders quips because, you know what, sometimes he really _can’t_ help himself. Garrett chuckles beside him.  
Hawke just rolls her eyes and gets up. “I’m getting another drink.”

“Same again for me,” Garrett calls after her. She decidedly ignores him.

Garrett turns to Anders with another impossibly warm and cheerful grin and tells him that Anders can’t quite help but respond to. “Guess that means I’m on my own then. Do you want anything?”

Anders keeps his smile at the offer but shakes his head. “No, I think I’d probably better head off. I’ve an early start at the clinic tomorrow.”

He must be imagining it when he thinks for a moment that Garrett looks disappointed. It is kind of a shame because talking to Garrett has been nice. If his past visits are anything to go by, Anders knows he might not get another chance before he leaves again. But Justice is restless and Anders has ignored the feeling long enough. It’s time to go.

“Okay,” says Garrett. “Well, it really was nice to meet you properly at last. I’ll probably see you tomorrow, right?”

“If I can get away from the clinic, then sure.”

“Great! I’m looking forward to hearing all about The Cause.” Garrett flashes him another grin. Then, before Anders can answer, he’s on his feet, clapping Varric on the arm. “You want another?”

No sooner has Varric accepted his offer of a drink than he waves and heads off in the direction of the bar and Anders is left in faint surprise, watching him go.

* * *

Hawke is already at The Hanged Man when Fenris arrives. No sooner has he entered the place than she looks up, blue eyes finding his from across the room. She does not smile but rather looks at him as though even after their talk last night she has yet to make up her mind about him. Fenris supposes he could say the same about her. Though he has dedicated several nights since their last meeting here to investigating her and deciding if her offer is genuine.

Everything she told him appears to be true. In keeping an eye on her, he has discovered that she lives in an old estate in Hightown with at least three other people - the family she told him about, it would seem. The area she resides in seems to be particularly well-to-do, though Fenris has seen no evidence of Hawke or her housemates possessing the same wealth as their neighbours. This comes across as odd but Fenris can see no evidence to suggest that the estate is not indeed theirs. He watches them come and go at all hours of the night and sees no evidence that they are anything other than comfortable and familiar with the place. And their neighbours, what he’s seen of them, seem used to having them around. 

If anything, the unusual place of residence only convinces Fenris further that Hawke is telling the truth. If this were a set up by Danarius, surely he would have provided for her a more suitable place to stay. A Lowtown flat, maybe. Something inconspicuous. 

He’s not quite ready to drop his guard, but at the very least, he’ll take her offer to help with the bounty hunters that he is certain were sent by Danarius.

He approaches and sits across the table from her. “Hawke,” he says, by way of greeting.

“Fenris,” she replies, “shall we get to it?”

He nods. “Tell me what you know.”

“At this point, there’s not much I can say with certainty, beyond ‘bounty hunters headed this way’. But I do know they’ve been making their way along the coast from Cumberland, asking for someone matching your description. It’s hard to say when exactly they’ll make it to Kirkwall but a friend of mine has his people watching them.”

Hawke had hinted before at the extent of her resources but the more he thinks about it, the more strange it sounds. Danarius had a network of spies. That is normal enough for a Tevinter Magister. It does not sound like the way things are usually done in the south. 

“Your friend… is this the guard captain you mentioned?”

Hawke shakes her head. “Though that is another thing I need to talk to you about. I went to see her today. But right now I’m talking about the dwarf that owns this place. The people are his.” The look he gives her must show his scepticism because she smirks at him then. “Those are just two of his many business ventures.

Don’t ask me to name them all because I really couldn’t.”

“You are surprisingly well connected,” he tells her.

“And you don’t even know the half of it,” she replies, still smirking.

Fenris’ curiosity wins out. “May I ask, how did you come to be a vampire hunter employed by the city? It’s a strange occupation for a human.”

Thinking about it, Fenris doesn’t think he’s ever come across a human vampire hunter.

Hawke raises an eyebrow. “What, you don’t get hunters in Tevinter?”

For just a moment, Fenris stiffens but then he remembers Hawke told him last night that she’d looked into his background. What little information he’d passed on to Anso must have quite easily been enough to lead back to Tevinter. He tries to relax and answers, “Those trained under the Qun turn up occasionally. But though

I know there are humans among the Qunari, I very much doubt you are one of them.”

“Maybe I’m just really good at hiding it.”

“Perhaps. Though suggesting so does not do wonders for the trust we are supposed to be building.”

She snorts. “You’re right there. But fine. You want to do trust building? I suppose I can make an effort. I know there aren’t many who do what I do. Besides the Qunari. With humans, it’s rarer. It tends to be passed down through families.”

“Your family are hunters?”

“They _were_. There haven’t been any hunters in my family for a while. But, I liked the idea. Fighting is something I was always good at…” she trails off and Fenris gets the impression that there is more to the story. 

He is uncertain if he should prompt her to continue but decides to do so anyway, reasoning that she is not the sort to volunteer information she has no wish to share. If his questions bothered her, he is sure she would tell him so. “So it was a decision you came to on your own?” he asks.

It seems strange, with everything he knows about hunters. To gain their power, a prospective hunter must ingest the ritually prepared blood of a vampire. Not an easy task for a mortal, given that a vampire will burn to nothing but ash upon being killed, meaning their blood may only be taken while they’re still alive.

She seems to see where his thoughts have travelled. “I might have lost it a bit around that time I actually went through with it. I had Merrill’s help with not getting killed in the process. At the time it might not have been the most well thought out decision I ever made. But I don’t regret it. I’m good at it. And I can keep my family safe this way... In theory anyway.” She sighs then seems to realise that in doing so she has revealed more of herself than she wants to. She doesn’t look him in the eye after that, glaring at the table as though it might help her shake off whatever unwanted thought has come to mind. The way she glances at him after, it’s clear she’s aware he’s seen through her. It’s almost like she’s daring him to ask. But he knows better than to do so. Besides, he is slightly more occupied with other thoughts. 

Fenris knows a little about Qunari customs. Their hunters train for years to become what they are. The ritual is a long-held tradition. To hear Hawke describe the process so crudely is the last thing he’d expected. It unsettles him. He wonders if that’s what she wants. But he already knows of her strength. She does not need to try to intimidate him.

He tells her so, adding, “You have my word that I intend you no harm, so long as we remain on the same side.”

“Well, then good. If storytime is over, let's get back to the plan… not we really have much of one at this point.”

“We must find out where they are and then go to them.”

“That’s to the point, at least,” Hawke says with a smirk. “Give me your number. I’ll need to get in touch when I know what’s going on. And I don’t think you mysteriously appearing out of the shadows is going to cut it this time.” 

Fenris blinks slowly. Then he says, “I do not have one.” 

“You don’t have a phone?” 

“No.” 

She looks annoyed, though whether it’s because of his not owning a phone or his unwillingness to elaborate, it’s hard to say. “Feel like changing that situation any time soon? You have money right? And as I said about appearing from the shadows, I could do with something a little more reliable.” 

He must look uncertain because she sighs. “Fine. You, know what? I have one back at the house. It’s a bit cracked, but it’ll work. I can wipe it and arrange for a new sim. I’ll save my number to it and leave it here for you to pick up tomorrow night.” 

“That is...” Fenris stares, uncertain of how to take such an act of generosity. If that is indeed what this is. “There is no need for you to go to such trouble.” 

“Well, given that I need some way of contacting you and you don’t even seem to have a permanent address, I disagree. Besides, it’s no trouble. What else am I supposed to do during the day? Nighttime is when all the action is, right?” 

Fenris raises an eyebrow. “I will have to take your word for it. As I am in no position to compare.” 

“Oh yeah... the whole ‘frying in daylight’ thing. That’s got to suck.” She smirks. “No pun intended.” 

He stares at her for a moment, then he feels his lips quirk and he turns away. Ridiculous. 

“So do we have a deal here?” 

“If there is truly no other choice in the matter,” he allows. 

She shrugs. “It’s an easy solution.” 

“I will return it to you once our business has concluded,” he tells her. He does not wish to be indebted to her any more than seems necessary. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night-” she frowns, “-or in the day, I guess. Okay, what else was there?”  
  
“Your guard captain,” he reminds her.

“Aveline, right. She wasn’t exactly happy when I told her but we’ll figure it out. She agreed to call off the search and let me handle things from here.”

He frowns at her. “As easily as that?”

Hawke just smirks. “Didn’t I say it would be?”

If what she says is the truth then she has done more for him than he knows how to repay. “Then I am in your debt.”

She shrugs. “Stick to what we already agreed and we’ll be good.”

Fenris tries to get his head around the feeling that this is all going far too smoothly. And yet, this might be his only chance to face those who hunt him. He won’t reveal this thought to Hawke until he’s more sure of her. But at this point, despite how little reason he has to trust, he believes her. And the thing that surprises him more than anything else is the comfort he finds in the thought.


	7. Trust exercise

As soon as she gets the call from Varric, Marian lets the others know. Frustrated as she had been the other night with Garrett’s big mouth and the unwarranted display of protectiveness from both of them, the more she thinks it over, the more she’s willing to concede that it’s probably a good idea to bring them along. As little as she wants to risk either of them to this admittedly hare-brained scheme of hers, she knows Anders can take care of himself and will keep her brother safe while he’s at it. 

It is, however, going to be more dangerous than she anticipated. 

“They’re here and there’s nearly double the number I’d thought there were,” Varric tells her over the phone. “All holed up in some disused manor in Hightown. I did some digging and managed to trace ownership of the place back to Tevinter. So it looks like they have a pretty good set-up.”

“Why are there so many? You told me there were ten coming from Cumberland,” says Marian. She’d been expecting news on the vampires’ whereabouts today but this isn’t quite what she’d had in mind. 

“Seems there was another group up north. They’ve spent the last few days scouting the Vimmarks before heading down towards Kirkwall last night.”

Marian gives it some thought. The larger group is hardly ideal but nothing she can’t handle. “There might still be more of them coming, then. We should handle this group while it’s still manageable.”

“You call twenty manageable?”

Marian shrugs even though Varric can’t see her. “If Fenris is as good as his word. Then hopefully, yes.”

She can’t see Varric’s face but that doesn’t stop his doubt getting through to her. “That’s putting a lot on one vampire you hardly know. You sure you don’t need any more help with this?”

She sighs. “No, Varric. I don’t want to bring any more people into this than I have to.” 

“I suppose you’ve handled worse odds.” 

That makes her smirk. “Don’t you worry about it, Varric. Tonight, then. I’ll let the others know.”

Garrett’s the easiest to get hold of, as he’s home with her. She has to call Bethany to get in touch with Anders due to him not actually owning a phone. Fenris, at least, doesn’t have that problem anymore. He picked up the phone she left for him the night before last. 

“So the bad news,” she tells him, when he answers her call, “is that there are twice as many as we thought there’d be. But the good news is I have backup.”

“Backup?” Fenris’ voice sounds more deep and gravelly than she remembers. Or maybe it’s just groggy. It’s getting on towards the latter half of the afternoon already but Fenris is nocturnal and was very likely asleep when she called. She doesn’t feel too bad for waking him up. He had wanted her to let him in on the plan as soon as she had an idea of it herself. 

“Yeah. A friend of mine, and my brother. Is that alright with you?”

She doesn’t really know what she’ll do if he says no. It’s not as though Garrett or Anders will back down now that she’s told them they can come. She realises that she probably should have mentioned it to Fenris before now, though.

Fenris’ answer is slow, but when it comes, she doesn’t think he sounds annoyed. “There appears to be little choice. If there are as many enemies as you say there are.” 

“That’s the spirit,” is her dry response. “The place we need to be is pretty close to the chantry so let’s meet there. Does eight work for you? Better to start early while they’re all more likely to be in one place.”

Fenris agrees to the plan and they talk a little more, of practical matters. Marian relays what Varric just told her. Fenris gets quiet when she tells him of their destination and its ties to Tevinter. Not for the first time, she wonders just what exactly he’s running from that’s back there. She thinks better of asking him about it though and soon after that, she lets him go. 

Marian’s decision to meet Fenris by the chantry is more for Garrett and Anders’ piece of mind than anything else. She doesn’t have so much confidence in Fenris that she feels comfortable inviting him to her house. Even though she’s fairly certain he already knows where it is. He’d hinted as much when they spoke a few nights ago.

When Marian, Garrett and Anders arrive at the pre-arranged meeting place near the chantry, Fenris literally steps out of the shadows to join them. Marian just _looks_ at him. Then she wonders if he does it on purpose when she catches the slight trace of irony in his otherwise unapologetic expression.

But any amusement there might have been goes when his gaze turns to Marian’s companions. He doesn’t look hostile exactly but it’s clear he’s not exactly thrilled to be working with them. Marian supposes she can’t blame him for that. She wouldn't have liked it either if Fenris had suddenly sprung it on her that he was bringing friends along. He’s taking it well, considering. 

“So we’re all here?” says Anders, giving Fenris a wary look of his own, before turning away. “Wonderful. I can’t wait to see what a group of murderous Tevinter bounty hunters looks like.”

Marian gives him a sarcastic look while Garrett simply chuckles, then steps forward, holding out a hand to Fenris. “I’m Garrett,” he announces with a cheerful grin. “Good to properly meet you.”

Fenris looks in mild surprise at the outstretched hand, then up at Garrett, who is a good bit taller than him. Marian can still make out some small trace of discomfort there but he does seem to at least be trying to hide it. “I am Fenris,” he tells him simply, and chooses not to take the offered hand.

Seemingly unfazed, Garrett just laughs and drops his hand. “Not the touchy feely type then. You know, I think I can already see why my sister likes you.”

Fenris raises an eyebrow. Marian scowls. 

“Why? Because everyone else I know is a _moron?_ ” She turns to Fenris. “My twin brother, if you were wondering. Feel free to ignore anything that comes out of his mouth. And the sour looking one over there is Anders.”

Anders glances at her in annoyance, and if she’s not mistaken there’s a trace of hurt there too. Marian manages to refrain from sighing or otherwise reacting to the slight surge of guilt that bubbles up whenever he looks at her with that sad expression. None of them have time for that now.

Fenris at least, seems to get it. 

“I have already been to look at the location you gave me. They are inside and there are many more than I have had to face in one group before. I… I thank you for your assistance.”

For a vampire, Fenris is certainly… polite. It’s surprising, like many other things about him. Marian wonders for just a moment if that’s something she’s likely to get used to. But she quickly shakes off the thought and returns her attention to the task at hand. “Thank us later. We need to figure out how to get inside first.”

Anders folds his arms over his chest. “You mean we weren’t going to waltz in through the front door, yelling, ‘here we are, come and get us’?” 

“I don’t know. It _could_ work,” says Garrett. “Not exactly subtle, though.” Anders gives him a small smirk.

“Let’s put that on our list of backup options,” answers Marian drily. 

Fenris looks between them briefly but then returns to the subject at hand. “There is what looks to be a basement entrance around the back of the building. Though we will have to move without being seen if we are to use it to our advantage.”

Marian wonders if it was a mistake not to bring Isabela. This is her area of expertise, after all. But it’s too late now. They need to move before any of those vampires step out for a night time stroll and happen to notice their mark conveniently waiting right outside. 

“We’ll go in pairs,” says Marian. “Fenris and I will see if we can get the basement door open. We’ll signal to you when it’s safe to move.”

She’s not exactly surprised when Anders looks reluctant. “Perhaps one of us should go.” He gestures between himself and Garrett. “If everyone else waits nearby then we can send out a wisp when we’re ready for you to follow.”

Marian is pretty sure it’s just an excuse not to send her off alone with Fenris. She recognises it because she’s determined not to do the same with either of them. She is admittedly, a bit short with him when she answers, “Or we could benefit from the wonders of modern technology and I’ll fucking _call_ you. Garrett, have your phone ready but keep it on silent. Fenris, you scoped the place out earlier, right? Can you describe the best way around to avoid being seen?”

She turns away from Anders’ frown in favour of concentrating on what Fenris has to say. The route he describes is simple. The door he found earlier is located in an entryway at the side of the building, leading to the garden. Fenris suggests keeping close to the wall in order to avoid being seen from the top floor windows. 

Marian and Fenris go first, as planned. They sneak around to the basement side door without incident and she can’t sense any vampires on the other side. It makes it a little trickier with Fenris standing beside her, his eyes sharp and his limbs tensed to fight. The interference with her hunter sense is something she’ll have to get used to if she’s going to keep working with him. 

Just to be certain, she asks, “Do you hear anything?”

He shakes his head, so she turns the door handle. No luck, but that’s hardly surprising. She crouches before the lock and removes a set of tools from her jacket. She hasn’t been friends with Isabela for four years without picking up a few things. And while she might not have Isabela’s skill with locks, it seems to be good enough for this particular door. It’s not long before there’s a click signalling she’s in. 

She’s still careful once she opens the door. Still straining her hunter senses to be certain no vampire is on it’s way. The coast seems to be clear. So she slips her phone out of her pocket and sends Garrett a message: _Be quick_.

He and Anders manage to do just that and then the four of them are inside, heading down into the basement. It’s dark and the air is musty and foul. Marian’s night vision is better than the average human’s but she doubts Garrett and Anders can see much. “Stay close,” she whispers, meaning to lead the way. She still doesn’t think she can sense any vampires nearby besides Fenris, but even so, she’d rather not risk having one of the mages create a light just yet. 

They find their way to another staircase, leading to what can only be the upper floors. Now Marian gets the feeling that they’re closer to the ones they’re looking for. It’s still tricky to say. The feeling is a particular sort of prickle under her skin, the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. It’s been there since before Fenris showed himself earlier. But it seems to be getting stronger, the way it usually is with a larger group.

She refuses to let the complication hinder her. While there are drawbacks, she knows that Fenris’ other senses are superior to her own. Knowing the same can be said of the vampires upstairs, she turns to him and whispers, “How many?”

He listens, then holds up two fingers. Marian strains her own hearing and, sure enough, she can just about hear them coming closer, somewhere beyond the door. 

“Stay here and be ready,” she tells the others. Fenris nods while Anders looks equally serious, but Garrett just smirks and pulls a wooden stake out from somewhere inside his coat. 

Marian leaves them at the bottom of the stone steps. She positions herself by the door at the top and waits. It doesn’t take long before she hears the new arrivals passing by. She clears her throat and the footsteps stop. 

_“What was that?”_

And then the door opens. Marian moves, swiftly grabbing one and then the other and tossing them to the bottom of the steps. Fenris catches the first and kills him quickly, seemingly with his bare hands. Marian can’t see how exactly, only the blue glow fading from the markings on his hands and neck. The sight confirms for her that he is in possession of some power beyond that of a normal vampire.

The second vampire is pinned to the floor beneath Garrett’s boot and he makes short work of ducking down to stake it through the heart. She feels a faint sense of relief at seeing how capable her brother actually is. But she can’t help but hope they won’t all be so easily dealt with. She enjoys a good fight, after all.

The doorway leading out from the basement opens at the end of a corridor with one door in front of them and a couple of others further down in the opposite direction. she just about makes out the words. _“Did you hear something?”_ from the room opposite and she gestures to the others to join her. 

“Quickly,” she hisses and removes her stake from her jacket. 

“Three of them,” mutters Fenris. Marian nods. No trouble at all, that.

This time she opens the door herself, stake held high, ready to defend herself. They enter into what appears to be the main hall of the mansion. Immediately, Marian rushes the vampire that had been coming to investigate. As she tackles the first, she feels a rush of magic, which freezes one of the others in place and then, out of nowhere, Fenris is on the last. The fight does not last long. By the time she gets a stake into her target, Fenris has disposed of his, while Garrett uses a blast of force to shatter the one Anders froze.

They are not given time to wonder what to do next. A door opens and several more vampires rush in. This time, they’re ready for a fight. A mere moment later, the door on the other side of the room also swings open and there’s more still. She’d hoped to be a little stealthier, but somehow can’t help but grin. It looks like she’s about to get that fight, after all.

The newcomers swarm the room and Marian is surrounded instantly. It doesn’t faze her. She’s entirely used to taking on more than one opponent at a time. She kills the first two quickly. The third puts up more of a fight. She matches Marian for speed, blocking her barrage of blows. But Marian won’t tire easily and has the benefit of magical assistance. Anders is used to fighting with a group. He knows how best to use his magic to support his companions from a distance. The spell he casts now slows Marian’s opponent, causing her to flinch against some unseen force. Marian does not waste the opportunity to end her with a stake to the heart.

She turns, ready for the next one, wherever they might be. A few feet away, Garrett seems to be holding his own. While Anders’ approach to fighting with a group is fairly traditional for a mage, Garrett has his own style. He prefers to be in the centre of things, combining his magic with his physical strength. Marian knows that Garrett can fight. All of the Hawke siblings learned at least the basics of self defence when they were younger. Their father always said that the world was a dangerous place and even the mages of the family couldn’t always safely rely on their magic to defend themselves if they need it. But while she and Garrett had gone through all of the same classes together as teenagers, it’s a surprise to see him now. Using force magic to keep his enemies off him, while using his stake to strike out and take them down. Garrett doesn’t have the abilities of a hunter, as Marian does, but over the years he has developed his magic to make up for that lack. She has to admit, it works well.

Marian is only distracted for a moment. She suspects the reason no other vampire has come forward to attack her, is because the majority of them have targeted Fenris. Apparently, they recognise him. The hood he often wears has fallen back to reveal his white hair and his markings are lit up, casting him in an eerie blue glow. His fighting style is something to behold. Swift, precise movements and confusing feints. He moves, ghostlike, around his opponents, somehow difficult to follow. It has to be something to do with the tattoos, she thinks. The way he moves is not of this world. Marian has spent enough time around mages to notice his strange connection to the fade when she sees it. 

He’s having all the fun, she thinks.

Garrett and Anders are on top of things on their end so she rushes one vampire just as he’s about to catch Fenris from behind, slamming him instead into a wall. He struggles against her grip and she lands a blow to his stomach. The vampire doubles over and she quickly grips the stake with both hands before plunging it into his back.

She whirls around. Fenris has taken out another, leaving two left. He’s handling them beautifully. One makes to grab him and he ghosts straight past her, then he thrusts a glowing hand into her back and tears the heart out of her chest. 

Marian doesn’t see much that impresses her quite as much as that does. Fenris doesn’t stop there. In one motion, he has the final vampire by the throat. His eyes are black, no trace of green left in them. For a moment, Marian wonders if that means he’s going to… but there’s no flash of teeth, instead he tightens his grip on the other vampire’s neck, crushing it with alarming ease, until his hand drips with blood. A second later, he throws the incapacitated vampire to the floor. 

For a moment, Fenris just stands there, breathing hard. His eyes are closed, head tilted up, giving Marian a clear view of his tattooed throat.

The vampire at his feet is injured, not dead, so Marian steps over and drops into a crouch before finishing him off with her stake. Then she stands and takes in the sight of the vampire in front of her. Up close like this, she notices that he’s slightly shorter than her. His breathing slows and gradually, Fenris lowers his head and opens his eyes. She can see the green in them again now and somehow knows he won’t be any trouble. 

“Nice work,” she tells him. Then she turns and steps away from him. She glances around. The only evidence of the fight is the ash that covers the floor and the scent of blood and magic in the air. She sees Garrett brush himself down and put away his stake. 

Anders also looks no worse for wear. “Been a while since I saw a fight like that,” he comments.

Marian just shrugs. “It was nothing. What kind of bounty hunters were they anyway?”

Anders raises an eyebrow, giving her a sarcastic look. “Clearly I don’t get out often enough anymore. Is everyone alright? Do you need healing?”

Marian shakes her head. “They barely touched me.”

“I wasn’t so lucky,” Garrett mutters, rubbing his shoulder, then wincing. “One of them got its claws right into me. Or it feels like it.” He turns to show them and Marian can make out the tear on the back of his coat. She frowns and takes a step towards him but Anders gets there first. Garrett shrugs off his coat to give him a better look at the wound.

Anders ducks his head to peer at it. “Looks pretty nasty. I can probably do a better job with healing it if you take off the shirt.”

“Oh?” says Garrett and even metres away, she can see his eyes twinkling. “Left wanting more the other night were you?”

Anders’ cheeks flush and Marian doesn’t know which is worse, Garrett’s utter lack of shame, or how easily Anders seems to be drawn into it. If Garrett’s words surprised him, he recovers quickly. He laughs and answers, “I’ll admit it wasn’t the worst welcome home I’ve had after a long day at work.”

And at that point, Marian really isn’t interested in anything more the two of them have to say to each other. Her brother seems more than okay so she turns around - just as Garrett’s appreciative laugh rings in her ears. Ugh.

Sighing, she looks to Fenris. “How about you?”

“Me?” he questions. 

“You all good?”

“I am fine. It would take more than that to harm me.”

He’s gone back to not looking her in the eye but Marian can’t quite help but look at him. She sees his furtive glances around the room, towards the doorways, or Garrett and Anders, who Marian is still determinedly not looking at. He still holds himself in that tense way as though about to leap into action at any moment. She begins to wonder if he ever actually relaxes. “Yeah, I figured. You think there are more of them?” She can’t sense anything. Besides Fenris himself, anyway.

“Possibly. Not in such numbers. But they may have sent a group out in search of me already. Others may be out hunting.”

Marian nods and then frowns. If there are more, she should be out there, tracking them down. But the city is vast and chances are, she’ll have more luck at actually finding them by waiting here. It’s not the first time she’s felt frustrated with her own limitations like this. She’s just one person against an entire city full of bad shit. Even with the others to help her, how is she supposed to handle all that?

She looks up again and sees Fenris also frowning. If she had to guess, he’s thinking pretty hard about something too. And it’s nothing pleasant. “May I ask…” he begins, his voice hesitant. “You told me you believe this building belongs to the man who hired the bounty hunters.”

“Varric didn’t give a name. Just said it was someone in Tevinter.”

The change in his expression is nearly imperceptible. There is a quietly burning hatred in his eyes that Marian might not have noticed if not for the tensing of his jaw. Whatever it is, he pushes it away before answering, “Then you may be right. I will stay. If he wishes his mansion back then he may come himself and claim it.”

Marian eyes him doubtfully. “You’re going to… what? Squat here?”

He looks back at her, expression deadpan. “Do you have a problem with that?” The way he asks, she gets the distinct impression he doesn’t care either way if she does.

“Not at all. I suppose it will come in handy to know where to find you… Would you have a problem with _that?_ ” 

He starts frowning again. It seems like an almost natural expression for him but now it’s back to thoughtful as opposed to that barely suppressed anger from a moment ago. Eventually he answers, “I am in your debt. Should you require my assistance in the future, I would be glad to give it.”

Marian is surprised by his sincerity. She had been more or less content with making a deal with Fenris but she finds herself unprepared for his gratitude. Not knowing what else to do with it, she shrugs it off. “I would have taken them out anyway. They’re the last thing this city needs right now. But if this means you want to help with what I do here then be my guest. Just give me a call from now on. I’ll make sure we both get paid for it.”

He watches her and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to say something but then he simply nods.

“So that’s it?” Anders’ voice carries from across the room. “Just like that, we’re all working together now?”

Marian’s hackles immediately go up at the combative note in his voice and a retort is already on her lips before she can think it through, “You don’t have to do anything. Work with us, or don’t - it’s your choice. But I’ve made my decision and I’m not changing it now.”

Anders looks furious. “Good to know the opinions of those you’ve been working with for years mean so much to you.”

There’s a slight shake in his voice that surprises her. For a second Marian thinks she sees a spark of blue in his amber eyes but, just as soon, it’s gone and his eyes are closed. His hands are clenched at his side as he steels himself. At that moment, Marian doesn’t know what to think. But one thing is clear: Anders is truly upset about this. Why, though? Because Fenris is a vampire? She never liked them either but he has done nothing so far to make her regret the chance she’s given him. 

She takes a breath and decides to hear Anders out. “Alright, Anders. You have something to say? Say it.”

Anders opens his eyes. The trace of blue she thought she spotted there a moment ago is gone but there’s something else there. Something she can’t quite piece together. His eyebrows are drawn together in frustration as he considers his words. But when he opens his mouth, all he says is, “I’ve never met a vampire who wasn’t trying to kill us. Don’t you think that’s something we should give a little more thought to?”

Fenris speaks up then, before Marian has a chance to even consider her answer. He snarls, “And I have never met a mage who did not lust for power and would not stoop to any means to grasp it.”

And with that, all eyes are quite suddenly on Fenris. 

“You have a problem with mages?” says Marian. 

Fenris is tense. More so than usual, seeing that the words have potentially set him against every person in this room. But he doesn’t back down. “Magic is a curse. I have enough experiences with it to attest to that. When I saw your accomplices for what they were earlier, I was willing to put that aside to work with you. You have made every effort to prove yourself worthy of that and I will respect it.”

“You only wish for the same courtesy to be extended to you,” finishes Marian. “I guess that’s... understandable.” She surprises herself with how calm she sounds. She’s sure she should be angrier about this. She asks herself, does she really want to work with someone like that? And then finds herself reasoning that he’s had every opportunity to turn on them tonight and he hasn’t done so yet. It certainly seems as though he only brought it up in retaliation to Anders' comment.

This does not seem to matter to Anders. “ _Understandable?_ ” he repeats, outraged. 

Even Garrett is frowning now, though he speaks calmly, “Things are different in Tevinter than they are here. If you say you’ve seen abuses of power then I believe you. But you can’t hold southern mages to the same standard as those you’ve seen in the Imperium.”

Fenris looks as though he might be inclined to disagree. But he is clearly outnumbered and chooses to say nothing. 

Marian speaks up instead. “The markings you have. The ones that glow - and seem to make it possible for you to pass through solid matter, to move as though invisible? That’s not magic?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” answers Fenris in a way that suggests this isn’t exactly his favourite topic. But he goes on to explain anyway, “They are lyrium.”

“In your _skin?_ ” exclaims Garrett. 

“But that’s impossible,” says Anders, seemingly shocked out of his earlier anger. “It would kill you.”

“I am not mortal. There is little that can kill me,” Fenris replies dispassionately, as though it should be obvious.

“But even so,” Anders insists, “to live with something like that. Even for a vampire, surely it would be agony.”

Fenris does not answer but the way he looks away is answer enough that Anders has hit the nail precisely on the head. 

Anders stares, shaking his head a little, seeming caught somewhere between horror and fascination. “But how?”

“Powerful magic,” Fenris all but spits. “A process I did not endure voluntarily.”

Marian thinks she sees where all this is going. “The man you are running from…”

“Was the one who inflicted them upon me. Yes. And now he wishes his investment returned to him.” His voice is bitter. And Marian can see something of that same anger she’d glimpsed earlier from him. 

She nods, feeling that she understands a lot more now. She’s far from pleased about the revelation of Fenris’ disdain for mages but if Fenris is willing to put those things aside to work with her, this might still work. As long as she can be certain that none of the people she wants to protect are at risk from him.

She tells him, “I have always done everything within my power to keep the mages I work with safe and free of the circle. If you do anything to threaten that then we have a problem.” She looks at him and this time he meets her gaze, seeing that she is serious. He does not argue so she goes on, “As long as we have that straight, I suggest we put aside our differences and learn to work together.”

“You’re kidding,” says Anders. 

Marian doesn’t answer. The temptation to brush him off is there. But something about how genuinely troubled he was even before this new revelation makes her think she’ll have to talk to him about it. Later, though. Right now she doesn’t have the words for it. Maybe it’s a mistake. Maybe she really should walk away. But something is telling her not to. And there’s no way she could even begin to get that across to Anders here and now. She doesn’t even understand it herself.

“Fenris?”

“I am willing. So long as they do not strike first, your mages are under no threat from me.”

“They won’t,” Marian tells him with certainty.

“I can’t believe this,” Anders mutters.

“Hey,” says Garrett, “just so we’re clear, by ‘strike first’ you mean as long as we don’t try to kill you, right? Because I don’t want to accidentally do anything else only to end up with a hand inside my ribcage.”

Marian had forgotten how much worse Garrett’s ridiculous babbling gets when he’s nervous. 

“For fucks sake,” she cries. “Nobody is killing anyone - at least not anyone who is present here. Nobody is reporting anybody to the templars. No one here even has to bloody _see_ each other if they don’t want to. I won’t force you to work together! Did I not already make that clear?”

Anders shakes his head. “You really just… don’t get it.” He lets out a frustrated sigh, but just sounds tired as he adds, “Do what you want, Hawke.”

Garrett looks awkwardly between the three of them then says, “You know, we already did what we came here to do. Maybe we should head out.”

Marian nods, her expression grim. “That’d probably be best.”

Anders says nothing. His eyebrows are knit tightly together but he doesn’t even really look like he’s listening anymore. Marian looks up at Fenris. She doesn’t plan on admitting it, but Garrett isn’t the only one feeling awkward now. She should have known better than to bring Anders along for this. She might not have known about Fenris’ aversion to mages but Anders’ resistance to the idea of working with him in the first place should have been reason enough to keep him out of it. 

So much for her ‘trial’ going smoothly. She feels as though she should say something but at this point it’d probably only make things worse. “I’ll give you a call sometime soon,” she tells Fenris, who nods in response, like perhaps he doesn’t quite know what to say either. Perhaps he’s just as bewildered as she is by all this. She wouldn’t blame him if he was. She just hopes she’s not going to regret going along with whatever instinct it is telling her to trust him.

“Enjoy your new mansion,” says Garrett and the brightness in his voice isn’t quite enough to cover his discomfort. 

Anders looks up at Fenris for one last moment and his amber eyes are turbulent before he turns without a word and leaves the room. 

Marian sighs and follows him out.

* * *

Anders struggles to get his thoughts together during the walk back to the Hawke estate. There’s already too much to process, and much that he has forced away, refusing to think on it because he simply can’t. But standing out above all that’s left is the sting of betrayal. It’s not that Hawke made a deal with a vampire, though that does trouble him. It’s that the vampire Hawke made a deal with would speak so vehemently against mages. Against people like him. Against her own siblings! All those who Anders has dedicated his life towards protecting. 

He has always believed that she would stand beside him in that of all things. Through all the times they’ve failed to see eye to eye. Through all the arguments, when he’s been bitter over the past, or her behaviour has seemed cruel, her solid belief in his cause was always one thing that shone bright above it all. That made all the rest fail to matter. 

But would she really give all that up for some vampire she barely knows? Realistically, he knows the answer is no. He saw the flash in her eyes earlier, the moment she thought she might have been wrong about Fenris. But how quick she was after that to accept his assurances. What does she see in him that makes her believe him so easily? 

Anders knows that he’s jealous. And that he’s a fool. He loves her and she would choose a vampire over him. He tries to fight off the petty, jealous thought but it has taken root inside him and he can’t seem to dig it out. Sort of like his love for her, really. It’s never been any good for him and yet, despite how little they actually seem to get along, he still can’t rid himself of it. Something in him can’t ever help but see the good in her above everything else. She would do anything to protect her family, the people who are important to her. And in some strange, complicated way, he knows she counts him among those people. She would not risk any of them if she believed that Fenris might hurt them. She must truly believe in him. And yet, somehow that’s exactly the problem. 

The jealousy feels all the more pointless for how, even if she felt the same way, it’s not as though they could ever be together. He could never afford for what they’d once had to truly amount to anything, not with the cause to think about, and not with Justice and all the complications and dangers that presents.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, though. 

“You okay there?”

The question startles Anders out of his thoughts. He looks up to see that Garrett has fallen into step with him. It’s just the two of them now. Hawke has already charged off in the direction of Lowtown, intending to find Isabela and patrol with her. 

“Fine,” Anders tells him. “Just still trying to wrap my head around… all that.”

“You mean Marian’s decision to add a fugitive Tevinter vampire to her band of crime-fighting misfits?”

And, despite himself, Anders laughs. Though the sound is a fairly pathetic one. “Is that really what we look like from the outside?”

“Every bit, I’m afraid. Though it is sort of charming in its own strange way.” Anders doesn’t quite manage a response, beyond a half-hearted smile. They fall into silence for a moment and when Garrett speaks up again, he manages to sound more serious, though still far from unfriendly, “So, you didn’t seem terribly happy with how things went back there.”

Anders frowns at the pavement in front of him and wonders how to answer. It’s not really the most comfortable topic. “I’m… concerned, I suppose.” And then, because he realises that there’s no way Garrett is buying it, he adds, with a sigh, “Among other things.”

Garrett seems to notice his reluctance to elaborate and accepts it easily. “Yeah, I get that. She is my sister, after all. It’s difficult not to feel apprehensive about what she might be getting herself into. But she knows what she’s doing. She’s been fighting vampires for, what, five years now? And training towards it for nearly as long before that. And as far as I know, this is the first time she’s ever tried to adopt one. That must count for something, right? It does seem like there’s something different about him.”

“‘Different’ doesn’t make sense, though,” Anders argues. “How can he be?”

Anders sees the surprise on Garrett’s face at the vehemence in Anders’ tone. He sighs. Great. Way to make himself look as narrow-minded as the very people he’s spent half his life fighting against. “I don’t... _like_ making blanket statements,” he tries to explain. “I know too many people do the same to mages. And that is something I will always argue against. But when it comes to the nature of vampires… I have yet to see any evidence that their nature can be changed. They’re demons. Whatever humanity might be left in them, it’s never enough.”

Garrett looks at him like he’s not sure he’s buying it. “You spend a lot of time looking into what makes vampires tick?” 

He’s being sarcastic but he still manages to do so with the kind of smile that takes all the bite out of it. So Anders is quite genuine and only slightly defensive when he answers, “For a while, yes! Though I gave up eventually. There’s only so far you can go getting the same result and being disappointed every time.”

He hopes that Garrett won’t ask him to elaborate on that. It falls too close to those thoughts he’s already pushed somewhere far to the back of his mind where they can’t easily be found again tonight. He doesn’t need to drag them back up again. Thankfully Garrett seems to gather from Anders’ demeanour that now isn’t the time or place for it. “Well, I’ve got to admit that that makes me all the more curious about this Fenris, guy. I mean, he’s a little intense, yeah, but aside from all that anti-mage nug-shit, he didn’t seem too bad.”

“Oh, yes, there was that too,” Anders says bitterly. 

“It sounds as though he might have gone through some fucked up shit in Tevinter.”

“Hm…” Anders answers noncommittally. That’s another thing he’s had some trouble getting his head around. Though it might have taken a back seat in his thoughts behind all the other issues that have cropped up tonight. Now he thinks on it, he has to admit it’s bad. “Whoever did that to him must have been utterly depraved.”

“He said he didn’t have a choice, right? There are a lot of people like that in Tevinter. Elves in particular.”

“You mean…?” Slaves. That hadn’t occurred to him but somehow the possibility that Fenris is an escaped vampire slave doesn’t seem unlikely. Does that change anything, though? And does it matter what he thinks when his opinions matter so little to Hawke anyway? But still… “Shit…”

“It’s just a theory,” says Garrett, with a shrug.

They fall silent for a little while. The journey across Hightown isn’t a long one so they’re already coming up to the house when Garrett asks, “What are your plans for the rest of the evening?” 

“Getting some sleep, I suppose.” And trying not to think about this whole mess. Why does Anders have the feeling that’s going to be impossible? Maybe he should have gone back to the clinic. He might have done if he hadn’t been determined not to storm off in the same direction as Hawke earlier. Childish as that reasoning might be. It just really would have ruined the effect of storming off in the first place.

“You’re a sensible type, I see.”

The unexpected assessment makes Anders snort softly, seeming all the more ridiculous for the particular thoughts it had interrupted. “I don’t think anyone has ever accused me of that before. It’s more that I don’t always get back here every night and I do seem to sleep better here and work better at the clinic. Funny how that works.”

“So just occasionally sensible then,” Garrett amends with a smile. He always seems to be smiling. Anders has noticed that before. He’s only seen Garrett fully serious twice. And both times he’d been talking about mages. That’s good, Anders thinks. That it's important to him too. The rest of the time Garrett is friendly and sort of ridiculous but in a way that makes him easy to be around. Anders has found he likes him more than he expected to. 

They reach the front door to the house and Garrett digs out a set of keys to let them inside. As they step through and Garrett closes the door behind them, he says, “I was just thinking, it’s still sort of early and we never did continue that conversation from The Hanged Man the other night…”

Anders stares back at him, feeling oddly warm all of a sudden. “You really want to hear about that?”

“Of course,” Garrett replies so easily that Anders can tell he’s not just saying it to be nice. He really seems to mean it. Anders doesn’t know why he’s surprised as Garrett has never given him any reason not to believe he means every word. It would be sad really, how unused to that feeling he is, but it’s so much easier to ignore the thought with the warm way Garrett smiles at him. All of the shit that’s been dragged up by Hawke’s decision to work with Fenris is still there, churning away in the back of Anders’ mind. But Garrett’s eyes are bright and his smile is real. So Anders says yes and follows Garrett through the house, allowing himself to be distracted by something good for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marian: I'm really good at my job. I'm like a vampire killing machine  
> Also Marian: *spends half the fight just checking Fenris out*
> 
> I'm actually feeling pretty happy with how this chapter turned out! Probably because I have really low expectations for myself when it comes to writing fight scenes XD I hope you all enjoyed reading it anyway!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left any kind of support for this story! It really means a lot and I love hearing from you all!


	8. Something in me that lives inside you too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to anyone who might have been waiting for this chapter. I've let it stress me out far more than is reasonable for a scene that is not hugely relevant to the plot. There's some discussion of past character deaths. I think I might have made a mess of it (or else it might just be anxiety talking, I really can't tell) but I can't think about it anymore. I just need to post, move on to the next part of the story and hope nobody hates it. 
> 
> The chapter title is from [Rebel Heart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8LE6veTNORI) by First Aid Kit.

Talking to Garrett is ridiculously easy. So much so that it’s difficult for Anders to keep himself from giving away too much. The inner workings of the Mage Underground are not supposed to be public knowledge. It’s not something Anders can let anyone know he’s involved with, lest it get out and put the organisation at risk. He manages not to spill that secret to Garrett. Though it is a close thing. He just can’t shake the feeling that Garrett would understand, despite the Underground’s bad reputation. Bad because, of course, they live in a world where helping mages is a crime. It’s probably better for Garrett’s sake that he not get him involved. 

The Mages’ Collective is a more respected group, however. Well, as respected as any group centred around mage welfare can be, which is to say, not very. But the Collective don’t do anything outright illegal and the more supporters they can get, the better. That seems like the best place to start with telling Garrett about his work. He explains about some of the campaigns for better pay and working conditions for Circle mages. There are a few that are more about raising awareness of specific cases of mages being abused under templar supervision. It’s never easy to talk about. Some of the cases hit a little too close to home. Some of them are worse, involving mages that weren’t half as rebellious as Anders was in his Circle days.

They talk for a long while, and their topic of choice may not be the most pleasant but the comfortable way they’ve found themselves is quite the opposite. They sit together in the living room with the fire burning low, at opposite ends of the sofa with the dog stretched out between them. The Dog-is-not-allowed-on-the-sofa rule has never been particularly well enforced. Anders really isn’t a dog person but it is slightly difficult not to appreciate the sight of the great beast sprawled out with his head on Garrett’s lap, thoroughly enjoying having his ears idly scratched while Garrett listens to what Anders has to say.

When Anders has finished speaking, Garrett is visibly impressed. Anders has an odd mixture of feelings by the end of it all. There’s an element of it that always leaves him tired, lost within the sheer magnitude of what he has set out to accomplish. At the same time, he can feel how riled up Justice is by his belief in their cause. There’s always the feeling that they need to do more, that they cannot stop until every mage is afforded the same rights as any other person in Thedas. 

“We cannot hope to fix the system,” Anders tells him, his eyes locked fiercely on Garrett’s. “it’s already too broken for that. What we need is to tear the whole thing down and build something in its place that actually works.” 

When he stops he worries that he’s said too much, that he’s not reigned in enough of that intensity that always seems to end up in people rolling their eyes or finding some excuse to leave the conversation. Because he’s always too much. Or it’s, _‘yes, we think mages should be treated better too but you take it too far, Anders.’_ Or, _‘don’t you ever talk about anything else?’_

He has that same fire burning in him now and when he recognises it he feels himself deflate, waiting for the inevitable excuse, the _‘well, that’s nice but oh, look at the time - it’s getting late’_ , preceding a hasty departure. 

But it doesn’t come. Instead, Garrett just looks back at him and there’s a spark in his eye that Anders hasn’t seen since -since events he refuses to think about right now. Garrett asks, “How can I help?”  
Anders almost doesn’t know how to answer. It takes him a moment before he can rattle off that almost scripted answer, the things he’s supposed to say in response to that question, what he usually will say during the times he actually manages to keep himself in check and not scare off a new potential ally. “Just talk about it,” he tells Garrett, then takes a breath and steadies his voice before going on. “You travel a lot. So you meet a lot of people, right? Tell them what’s going on. It’s like you said the other night - people need to hear it. And we need people like you who aren’t afraid to speak up.”

Garrett nods. “That, er, sounds simple enough.”

There could be more to it, they both know. It comes to Anders suddenly, what exactly it is that’s holding him back. He remembers the last time he’d had this feeling so strongly. It was with Hawke. Garrett, so far, has given every impression of being nothing like his sister but that’s not really the issue. Anders knows there are people he can trust. Bethany, for example, has been a steadfast ally for years. Even Hawke has never truly let him down when he’s needed her… Before tonight anyway. And that’s the problem, really. With everything that happened at that dilapidated mansion fresh in his mind, it’s hard not to think of how easy it is to be wrong about a person. 

When Anders met Hawke, there was something in her - a ferocity that enamoured him. It burned so fiercely it made it impossible to look away. It feels like some sort of cruel joke that now he’s meeting her _twin_ for the first time and - it’s not the same but there’s _something_ there. It reminds him of a feeling he’d almost forgotten. To be understood... It worries him how much he wants it.

The way Garrett looks at him, it’s clear he’s more than a little confused by the sudden lull in the conversation. Anders casts about for something to distract him from this uncomfortable line of thought and a question comes to him. “Are you planning to stay in Kirkwall much longer?”

Garrett smiles. “What? That eager for me to get started?”

Anders manages a small laugh. “I’m just… curious, I suppose.”

Garrett looks a little amused by the serious answer given to a question Anders knows was only meant as a joke. “Hmm… I’m not sure what I’ll do just yet. I’d like to stay a little longer. I haven’t really spent much time here, considering it’s technically my home.”

Anders definitely notices the ‘technically’ there but decides not to ask about it, saying simply, “I noticed.”

Garrett laughs and gives him a knowing smile before explaining anyway. “I mean, it’s everything you were just saying about how bad things are for mages. You can really feel it here in a way that’s not quite the same anywhere else. Like it’s in the air or something… I don’t know. It probably sounds stupid.”

“No, I know what you mean,” says Anders before he can hold himself back. “I think I’d have left too if it weren’t for my clinic.”

Garrett gives him a long look. Then he speaks quietly, “It’s admirable that you stick it out. I’ve always hated it here… but you stay because people here need you. Marian and Bethany do too… I suppose I’ve never really thought about it like that.” He tilts his head back, his fingers still absently kneading the short soft fur at the back of Dog’s skull, and his eyes go sort of far off as he thinks about it.

Anders finds he wants to say something reassuring. After a minute he tries, “From what I’ve heard, it’s not as though you’ve been sitting around sunning yourself on various Rivaini beaches all this time. You use your magic to help people too.”

The small smile Garrett gives is grateful but suggests Anders’ reassurance didn’t quite hit home. “I think I’ll stick around a while longer anyway. I haven’t spent any real time here since my mother and brother died. That was five years ago. So that’s really not good.”

“Oh…” Anders has heard about what happened, of course. He’d never actually met Leandra or Carver himself but Bethany had told him about them. Their deaths had been unrelated but within a few months of each other. Carver had been lost first in an incident with the templars, who he had been training with then. He’d been eighteen at the time. Then Leandra had been killed by a vampire. Nobody could figure out how it had happened, or what she had been doing out alone at night. The nearest they could guess was that in her grief she’d disregarded the dangers of travelling in Kirkwall at night. Anders hadn’t even known the Hawkes at the time. Even if he had, he likely wouldn’t have been in any fit state back then to have supported them through it. But he wished he could have done something. Instead, all he could offer was a shoulder for Bethany to cry on, years later, when she’d told him about it during the anniversary of that awful time. Marian had never spoken to him about it. But it wasn’t difficult to imagine how badly she’d taken it all. 

“I can’t really blame you,” Anders finally answers. “Kirkwall must have some painful memories for you.”

“I can’t lie about that… it really does,” Garrett sighs. “Honestly, I didn’t even stay as long as I should have back then. A few weeks after Mum… I got into this huge fight with Marian and took off again… I doubt she’s ever going to forgive me for that.” By the look on his face, Anders gets the impression he hasn’t forgiven himself either. 

The honesty is something Anders had not been expecting. He's gripped by the urge to comfort Garrett but he doesn’t know what to say. It takes too long to come up with anything and when he finally does the words sound so inadequate he nearly kicks himself. “You know I can’t blame you. If anyone knows about arguing with your sister, it’s me.”

Garrett just gives him a sympathetic look. “I don’t know why she was like that with you before. I think she must have some reason for it and, knowing her, she’s just too stubborn to share it with the rest of us. It doesn’t mean it’s fair, though.”

They fall quiet again because Anders isn’t sure what to say to that beyond a quiet, noncommittal, “Hmm.” He doesn’t think he’s finished being angry with her yet, so it might have been better to avoid the topic in the first place. 

Eventually, Garrett speaks up again. “Did Marian ever tell you about when she became a hunter? Not how she started, because I remember her talking about it even when we were teenagers, but when she really committed to it, superpowers and all?” 

“I’ve heard bits and pieces. She didn’t really go into detail.”

“Right. Not an oversharer, my sister. But... it happened after we lost Mum and Carver. Carver had been training with the templars for around a year, which incidentally, was about the amount of time I hadn’t been speaking to him,” he stops briefly - takes a breath, and Anders thinks he can hear his regret in the small sound it makes. But then he goes on, “I know it wasn’t out of selfishness that he joined, though I certainly accused him of it at the time. Now I think he had just genuinely convinced himself that he was helping. Or that he _could_ help if he just worked his way up high enough. But he got caught up in something that was more than he could handle. You’ve probably heard about all this before right?”

Anders nods. Bethany had told him about the incident, something involving a blood mage that Carver, as a new templar recruit, should never have been involved in. But he'd wanted to prove himself. He’d always been like that, Bethany had said. Perhaps joining the templars had seemed like a good place to do so, outside of the shadow of his older siblings. Anders doesn’t think it's much of an excuse but not wanting him to hate her brother on principle, Bethany had given more or less the same reasons for his joining the templars as Garrett just did. Inspired by the templar who had helped their father escape the circle, he’d joined thinking he could somehow keep them off Bethany from the inside. Anders really doesn’t think anyone involved is truly convinced by the logic in that. But Bethany seems to want to believe it. He’s tried to reserve judgement for her sake but doubts he would have managed it for anyone but Bethany. Anders never could muster up much sympathy for templars. But he could appreciate that the loss for the Hawke family had been a tragic one. Doubly so, for how soon after, Leandra had followed.

“Not two weeks after we lost mum, Marian decided to try and hunt down the vampire that killed her - and in the most dangerous way possible. And I just couldn’t believe she’d been that reckless after everything we were going through. But even then we still thought it was a better use of our time to be furious with each other than to… than to grieve. Shit,” Garrett’s brow wrinkles as he pauses in his story, “what am I even trying to say?”

Anders looks back at him without an answer. He doesn’t know what it is that’s suddenly made Garrett open up to him like this. Is it because they’d been talking so easily before? Because of the lateness of the hour and how here in this room, in the low light of the fire, with no one else around, honesty feels safer than usual? Anders can’t deny it. There are several things he’s already had to hold himself back from saying. He hadn’t realised that perhaps Garrett was feeling it too. 

“I think my point is that I know Marian’s avoidance tactics when I see them because we're just as bad as each other in that. We just go about it differently.”

“Well…” Anders gives Garrett a hesitant but slightly wry smile, “at least you’re honest about it, I guess.”

“I just mean to say that Marian cares more than she lets on. I think if she cared less, she wouldn’t be half as frustrating as she is.”

Anders raises an eyebrow, not able to keep the doubtful expression off his face, though a trace of his smile still lingers. “How do you figure that?”

“I swear, that’s just what she’s like.” He laughs quietly. “I know it hardly makes sense.”

For a minute neither of them speak. Anders stares into the fire, going over the evening’s events in his mind and after a while feels Garrett’s eyes on him. He expects him to say something but it’s Anders who eventually speaks up, “Do you think I’m overreacting?”

He looks to Garrett and sees him shake his head. “I think you probably have your reasons to be mistrustful of anyone who says they hate magic. Most of us do.”

Anders doesn’t know what he’d expected the answer to be. It seems to him that Garrett has brushed off his sister’s choice far more easily than he ever could. 

“Thank you…” he murmurs, “for not just saying yes to that.”

Garrett just smiles. Then he shakes his head. “Maker’s ass, this is really not how I thought this conversation was going to go. What were we talking about before I decided to get all maudlin on you?”

Anders snorts. “The joyful topic of mage oppression, I believe.”

“Oh, lovely! We really are a cheerful pair, aren’t we?”

But the smile he gives now seems cheerful enough despite his obvious sarcasm. Anders lets out a small laugh because that’s something he can definitely appreciate. While he may have heard a hundred sarcastic comments about his ‘obsession’ with mages, this is different. Garrett jokes about it because he gets it. Because he counts himself on Anders’ side. That much is clear to see. It’s only getting harder to resist because right now, more than anything, Anders feels as though he needs it. And, after tonight’s conversation, he’s starting to think that Garrett does too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of regrets about having Leandra killed off by a vampire. It feels like I've fallen into really bad trope territory and I wish I'd thought it through a bit more before I started posting. But going back and fixing it now, including rewriting earlier chapters that reference Leandra's death feels overwhelming. This story feels a lot bigger than anything I've ever tried to write before and even with a detailed plan it's hard enough to keep track of everything. Whenever I try to think about changing what I've already written, my thoughts just turn to static. Maybe taking a break would help but at the moment I kind of just want to get on with it and push forward to the parts of the story that I am looking forward to sharing. 
> 
> The next chapter was going to be part of this one but I decided to cut it in half because I felt like the pacing was off. The good news there is that it's nearly done already so I'll try to post it either tomorrow or the day after to make up for being late with this one. 
> 
> If anyone here isn't already following me on tumblr you can find me there as [scythe-hag](https://scythe-hag.tumblr.com/). Occasionally I'll post chapter excerpts there or other writing. And it's possibly the best place to find out what's going on if I'm falling behind on posting this. Feel free to come chat to me there.
> 
> Thank you, as usual to everyone who has shared their support for this story!


	9. Crushing

It is possible that Garrett may have a crush. A little one. He can tell because he’s been back in Kirkwall for a bit over a week now and usually by this point, he’d be starting to think about what he wants to do next - as in, where he wants to go. Away from this awful, awful city. But, instead of that, Garrett has found himself thinking rather a lot more about when he might see a certain handsome blond healer again. 

Anders is doing a fantastic job of keeping Garrett on his toes. Not that he thinks it’s intentional. There’s no real routine to when he’ll be around, just that it’s usually at night. Some nights he’ll be there and some nights he won’t. But when he does show up at the Hawke estate, Garrett always feels this funny tug of pleasure at the sight of him. 

He often comes in looking tired in a way that goes beyond working long days, or not getting enough sleep. But he’ll still laugh at Garrett’s jokes. Especially the flirty ones. His eyes do this thing where they crinkle up at the corners when he laughs and Garrett has probably spent longer thinking about it than is reasonable for someone he barely knows. 

He mentions it to Bethany one morning, when she has a late start at the clinic and it’s just the two of them about for breakfast again. He tells her how they’ve all been holding out on him. “You’ve all mentioned Anders plenty of times but no one ever told me he was that cute.”

And then Bethany winces. So that can’t be good. 

“Okay, what did I say this time?” He thinks over it but he’s fairly certain that on the Garrett Hawke scale of inappropriate comments that one doesn’t even register. 

“It’s… nothing,” says Bethany, apparently not interested in even trying to be convincing. 

“Right. Clearly,” says Garrett, giving her a doubtful look. “He is single, isn’t he? He never mentioned being with anyone.” He has to think over it for a moment but, yes, there has definitely been flirting on both ends. More than that, he’s sure that there was a connection between them when they stayed up talking a few nights ago. Not to mention how completely unsubtle he’d been in checking Garrett out that first night. So far, he’s shown every sign of being interested. Garrett doesn’t see why he shouldn’t go for it.

Until, at last, Bethany sighs and says, “It’s just… you know he’s got a thing for Marian, don’t you?”

He… did not. Though now Garrett thinks about it, several things start to fall into place. The weirdness between him and Marian at The Hanged Man the other night - and just in general. General weirdness. There has, quite honestly, been a lot of it. He can picture a few of the looks Anders has thrown in Marian’s direction and it sort of makes sense. Except - no, it really doesn’t because he also remembers a few of the other looks Anders has given her and he’s pretty sure they don’t even like each other that much. 

Bethany evidently manages to follow Garrett’s line of thought based entirely on the confused look on his face and she says, “Yeah… it’s… well, it’s obviously complicated. I couldn’t tell you what’s going on there exactly. Just that Marian doesn’t feel the same way and as much as neither of them seem to want it to be a thing, it’s clearly a thing. We’ve all just been hoping it will sort itself out in time, I suppose.”

Garrett takes a moment to process that. Then he grins. “ _Well-_ ”

“No,” says Bethany. 

“You don’t know what I was going to say!”

Bethany gives him a look that she must have picked up from Marian. That is not a typical Bethany Hawke look. Though it’s scary how well she pulls it off. “I know you, Garrett.”

“Everybody knows that the best way to get over someone is to get - no, actually, you’re right. That’s not something I should say to my little sister.”

“Thank you - _truly_ \- for sparing me,” replies Bethany, who appears now to be entirely exasperated with him.

But, more often than not, Garrett simply doesn’t know when to stop so he tells her, “All I’m saying is that as Marian’s twin, I could be the best person for the job.”

And, oh, apparently she _can_ be more exasperated with him. “Do I really have to explain to you how that is the opposite of the truth?”

“Well, it might be a little unorthodox…”

She stares at him and shakes her head. “Garrett. Please… drop this.”

Garrett pouts. “Why does nobody ever want to let me have any fun?” Really, he’d expect this from Marian. But Bethany? She’s usually more easy going than this.

Bethany sighs again and looks at him for a moment with a very serious sort of frown. “Okay,” she says, “say Anders is interested and you get to have your ‘fun’ - then what? You date him for a few weeks and then go back to galavanting all over Thedas? What happens to Anders then? He has a life here - he’s not going to go with you.”

Garrett considers this and finds he doesn’t really have an answer. “I hadn’t quite thought that far ahead, to be perfectly honest.”

“I know you hadn’t. But Anders is my friend. I suppose I sort of feel it’s my duty to consider these things. I don’t want to see him hurt any more than he already has been.”

He watches Bethany thoughtfully. It’s disappointing, what she’s telling him, all the more so because it does make a lot of sense. But it strikes him how much she seems to care and Garrett can’t help but smile a little at that. “So, you’re saying you’ll have to kick my ass if I go there?”

Bethany smirks like she can’t help herself. “Something like that.”

“Does that mean you already did with Marian? Because that would have been interesting to see. You should have set a date. I’d have flown in.”

Bethany laughs and shakes her head before giving him a slightly sad look. “Whatever happened with Marian had already happened before I got involved. I can’t say she handled any of it in the best way, but then most likely, neither has Anders. At the very least, it seems to me she’s always been clear with where he stands with her. It’s not like I can blame her for that.” After another moment, she adds gently, “It’s not exactly Marian I was referring to anyway. Anders has had a rough life. He deserves to have fun. To be happy. But I just wonder where it would leave him when you leave again. The fact that you’re our brother only makes it potentially more messy.”

Garrett thinks. Bethany does have a point. It’s not that he has a lot of flings, only that over the past decade that’s more or less what all of his relationships have been. Nothing has lasted more than a couple of months. Sometimes he’ll meet someone and travel with them for a while but the passion will usually fizzle out as quickly as it came on and they’ll inevitably part ways. There are one or two who he’ll meet up with whenever he’s in a particular city but that’s never serious. He hadn’t thought it through before, but he can’t do that with such a close friend of his sisters’. If it didn’t work out then it’d be exactly as Bethany said: messy.

Besides, he doesn’t even know if Anders is the type for that kind of relationship. The fact that he’s known Marian for years and is apparently still hung up on her after all this time suggests otherwise. 

But the thought is more disappointing than he could have expected. He really hadn’t thought about it enough. Over the past few days, he’s been letting the feeling build, nourishing it, confident in the feeling that whatever it was was being reciprocated by Anders. The feeling now, that he might have been mistaken, that he might have to let it all go, is crushing. And he really doesn’t know what to do with that.

Maybe that’s why he murmurs, “Who says I’m going to leave again?” And honestly, Garrett doesn’t even know where that came from. It certainly hadn’t been a question in his mind before now. Apart from his determination not to disappoint Bethany. But even then, while he’d intended to stick around for longer, it didn’t mean he intended to stay permanently.

Maker, it’s ridiculous. He’s only known the man for a week. 

Even Bethany looks at him in alarm at that. “You always do.”

She doesn’t say it like an accusation, just a fact. It still stings a little, but that isn’t Bethany’s fault. He’s never felt particularly good about leaving people behind, he just somehow never managed to stop himself from doing so anyway. He’s still not quite sure he can make the promise that he won’t do it again. 

So he sighs and says, “Alright, I’ll back off. You’re probably right. Somehow you always are.”

Bethany’s eyes are on him, giving him a long considering look, like maybe she’s seeing more than she did before. 

Garrett adds, honestly, “I’d like to be his friend, though.”

She smiles. “I was under the impression you already were. I know he appreciates it.”

He can’t help but smile back at that. “Yeah?”

“Definitely.” 

Garrett tamps down the pleased feeling that comes with the idea of Anders thinking enough about him to express such a feeling to Bethany. He sits back and considers what she’s told him. About Anders being hurt before. About him having had a rough life. He thinks about that tired look he’s glimpsed once or twice in Anders’ eyes and finds it easy to believe. 

Then he thinks about how different he looks whenever he’s laughing at one of Garrett’s jokes. Terrible as he knows they often are. He just has to wonder… is it really such a bad thing that Garrett likes seeing him smile that way? That he kind of wants to be the one to cheer him up?

But Bethany’s point is valid. Garrett has already caused enough hurt over the years. The last thing he wants now is to do the same to Anders. If that means just being his friend then that’s good enough for him. He’s going to do better from now on. Garrett hasn’t forgotten about that yet.

* * *

  
The week passes and given that Marian has found herself in circumstances she would never have predicted a fortnight ago, it’s actually rather uneventful. Garrett sticks around, which is probably the most surprising thing. She’d expected him to be bored by now and already planning another trip to some far away country but so far there’s been no sign of him even thinking about it. It’s good, she supposes. It makes Bethany happy anyway. 

She hasn’t seen much of Anders in the time since they’d left what she has now come to think of as Fenris’ place. Marian can only assume it’s because he’s still angry with her for choosing to recruit Fenris in the first place. She’d meant to talk to him about it, to attempt to explain herself. But nothing has magically fallen into place since that night. She still doesn’t know how to make him understand. And she has fallen into old habits of not really dealing with it because it doesn’t seem to be of immediate concern. The thought of opening up to him is still an uncomfortable one. The only reason she’s even considering it and not just expecting it to blow over in time is the nagging feeling that she’s crossed a line. One she hadn’t realised existed before. 

She did try to speak to Anders once, when he came in late one night and she was just about to head out. But when she brought it up, Anders had just given her a tired look without a trace of the anger he had shown several nights ago, and told her, “Not right now, Hawke.” He’d seemed distracted, the words released with a sigh. It didn’t take much convincing for her to agree that it had indeed been a bad time to talk. 

She had probably been too quick to shrug her shoulders, thinking to herself, _well, at least I tried_. And it had seemed to her that if Anders was not in any particular rush to talk it over, that only gave her more time to figure out what she should actually say.

Fenris, on the other hand, she has seen several times since that night. She introduced him to Isabela. After the awkwardness that had ensued when she’d had him work with mages the first time, she decided not to risk a repeat. And things have proceeded a lot more smoothly that way. He and Isabela seem to hit it off. And after a few nights, with renewed confidence and the agreement of everyone involved, she brings Garrett along. Fenris remains true to his word. He and Garrett don’t talk a lot but there don’t appear to be any issues. 

It was supposed to be a practicality but Marian sort of likes working with him. He’s good at hunting, which is hardly a surprise, given what he is, and it’s not to say that her other friends _aren’t_ good at it but with Fenris, she doesn’t have to worry about him getting hurt. Between his strength and the abilities given to him by those strange lyrium tattoos, he is more than a match for any opponent they face. Marian is only just starting to appreciate the risk she took in challenging him that first night they met.

They haven’t really talked about much besides work on any of the nights they’ve spent together. Three in a row now and tonight Marian sits in her living room as the sun starts to set, wondering how reasonable it would be to make tonight the fourth. She does not know what Fenris does in the time when he is not with her but he has yet to turn down a request to join her on patrol. As useful as that is, she doesn’t like the idea of becoming reliant on him. 

She realises she’ll have to make a decision soon as it won’t be long before nightfall. She’d heard from Aveline about a possible nest somewhere by the docks. Something she does not necessarily need to wait until night to tackle. If the vampires are all in one place and the daylight stops them having any place to run, that only makes her job easier. She only has to wait for night to fall if she plans to bring Fenris. 

She goes over who else is available. Bethany is with her, sitting in an armchair a few feet away and flicking through channels on the television, but Marian has no intention of asking her. Bethany has never really seemed too interested in the idea of helping Marian with her work, which works for her because she hates the idea of involving her in it. Garrett’s in the kitchen cooking and Merrill’s not yet back from her studio. She’d have to text Isabela to find out if she’s free and if Anders isn’t here, she can only assume it’s because he’s busy.

Marian is about to go and ask Garrett what his plans are for the night when Bethany pauses in her channel hopping on an unpleasantly familiar face. The woman, whose head and shoulders are currently filling the television screen, is blonde and wears what seems to be a permanently sour expression. Marian recognises her easily as Meredith Stannard, the leader of the Kirkwall Templars and by extension, the Circle here. The channel Bethany has stopped on is the evening news and as little as either of them want to hear a word Meredith has to say, it can’t be ignored that if she’s being interviewed, it’s really not likely that the news is good. Marian stays put in her seat while Bethany raises the volume slightly. 

Whatever this is about is preceded by the usual rubbish about how mages cannot be trusted to think for themselves. Not in so many words of course, but Marian has heard enough to know what the roundabout phrases really mean. It eventually comes out that Meredith is responding to a report about the significant number of mages who have dropped off the Circle’s radar by turning to desperate measures such as working for vampire or slaver groups. It’s not surprising to Marian. It’s been happening forever. Mages who run from Circle control do so because they're desperate. What Meredith can’t seem to grasp is that there must be something dreadfully wrong with the way she’s running things if a mage would rather join a gang than stay under her thumb. But, of course, Meredith would much rather paint all mages as thugs than admit it might be her fault so the conversation never seems to go anywhere. 

Usually, that is. Tonight, the reporter asks her, _“There was some suggestion that you’ve been considering more controversial methods for tackling this problem, such as bringing back the Rite of Tranquility. Is there any truth to that?”_

Marian had been about to brush off the interview as nothing outside the usual rubbish Meredith is always spouting. She starts to get to her feet, returning to her thoughts of talking to Garrett but hearing that, she freezes. Out of the corner of her eye she notes Bethany displaying a similarly shocked reaction.

Meredith replies, _“Not as of yet. Though we must consider all options when it comes to tackling this crisis. The Rite of Tranquility is but one potential method. We would hope that by weeding out potential maleficarum early we would prevent any threat they may later cause.”_

_“The Rite is viewed by many as an extreme practice,”_ says the reporter. _“How would you respond to those who insist it was outlawed for good reason?”_  
  
_“It would be regrettable to have to resort to such measures. But if no other solution can be found, we must ask ourselves to consider carefully the threat maleficarum and vampires both pose to our society. Is that not also extreme?”_

Marian can hardly stand to listen to it. “Talking absolute shit as usual, Meredith,” she mutters. 

Bethany seems to be more alarmed. “Just when I think I can’t be any more horrified by anything that woman has to say. Can she even do that? Bring it back?”

“I don’t know. Not easily, I would have thought.” Seeing the obvious worry on Bethany’s face, Marian’s anger starts to rise. “It’s just an excuse. Making a bunch of kids tranquil wouldn’t do anything to fix the problem they’re actually supposed to be discussing.”

“It’s true,” says Bethany and the look on her face is deeply troubled. “They’d all rather do anything than admit the problem is within the Circle itself. Something… something has to be done. I don’t know how much longer I can just sit here and let it all happen somewhere else where I don’t have to think about it.”

Marian stares at her sister in surprise. It’s not the sort of outburst she expects to hear from Bethany. She’s always been compassionate - but practical, level-headed. “Bethany,” Marian says slowly. “You don’t have to feel bad about being safe here.”

“Am I safe, though?”

“Yes. Any templar who wants you has to go through me first, remember?”

Bethany shakes her head. “And what if that’s not enough anymore? For me? Just knowing that I’m safe… Anders is always doing so much.”

And just like that, Marian’s eyes narrow. Of course this has something to do with Anders. “Please tell me you haven’t let him drag you into some scheme of his.”

“How can you say that?” Bethany exclaims. “You agree with him! I know you do! But somehow the thought of me having anything to do with his work drives you crazy. Why?”

If what Bethany had said before had sounded strange and alarming to Marian’s ears, then the unrestrained frustration in her tone now is even more so. Marian’s defenses go up immediately as she retorts, “Is it so wrong that I want to keep you safe? The things Anders is mixed up in are noble, yes. But they’re dangerous!”

At this point there are footsteps coming towards them and Garrett’s voice floats into the room. “Um, I hear shouting. What’s wrong with you two?”

Bethany ignores him to say, “Is it really any different than you going out to fight vampires every night? You could get a normal job, you know. You’re the only one in this room who can. But you won’t because then who would keep the city safe? You do it because it’s your duty. How can you expect anything less from the rest of us?”

“Because I know what I’m fucking doing!” snaps Marian, taking a tone she never uses with Bethany. It sounds wrong in her ears. It feels wrong, talking to her little sister like that. 

Bethany is right about one thing at least: the thought of her having anything to do with any of Anders’ resistance groups makes her more upset than is in any way reasonable. It terrifies her that she could lose Bethany to something like that. How easy it would be for some templar to mistake her little sister for a renegade mage and throw her into the Gallows. Could Marian even do anything to stop it if that happened?

But the look on Bethany’s face now, despite how she tries to hide it, is one of hurt. “And I don’t. Good to know that’s what you think of me, Marian.”

Garrett is frowning too, now. “What’s this about?”

Bethany doesn’t look away as she mutters, “It’s about how Marian’s fear of me getting caught by the Circle is so bad, she’d rather lock me up here instead.”

It doesn’t do much to cool Marian’s anger. She snaps back, “Now you’re just being over-dramatic.”

Garrett raises an eyebrow. “Is she, though? Bethany kind of has a point. She’s no less capable than myself, or Merrill, or Anders. And besides, you’re not really in any position to be telling her what to do. She isn’t a child.”

“Thank you, Garrett,” says Bethany.

Marian just glares, not focusing on either of them, but at a point somewhere beyond Bethany’s head. Of course, that information isn’t new, and of course they’re both right. But she’s just so angry. At the way Anders seems to make her think she should do more for him, intentional or not. At the way Garrett can be absent for fucking _months_ and then stroll in out of nowhere and start critsising the way Marian does things. _Fuck him,_ she thinks. _Fuck them both._

Even then, she knows on some distant level that she’s in the wrong. That she’s the only one being unreasonable. But the thought only makes her more angry. She has just about as much presence of mind left to know that if she stays, she’ll say something she’ll regret. So she doesn’t say a word. She does the only other thing she can: she turns and walks away, not stopping until she’s out of the house and slamming the door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is still enjoying this. I'd love to hear from you if you are. Thank you, as always, for reading and to everyone who has left their support.


	10. Back to our favourite goth power couple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not being able to put strikethroughs in chapter titles is really hampering my creative expression. The real title is _Back to our favourite goth ~~power couple~~ "work colleagues"_. (In case you can't tell, my method for choosing chapter titles is just to come up with something dumb as a working title and then inevitably just use that when I can't be bothered thinking of anything better to replace it with.)

Fenris is woken early - too early, if the faint light lining the old-fashioned shutters that cover the windows is any indication - by a loud rapping at the front door of his commandeered manor house. He sits upright but makes no move beyond that to respond to the noise. He has an idea of who it must be. The only person who ever visits him here is Hawke and her companions. Anyone he may need to worry about would surely not bother to knock. And certainly not at this early hour.

He can tell from what little light has made it into his room that the sun is long on its way out and will not harm him now. He chose this particular room for the positioning of the bed in a dark alcove tucked out of the way of the single window. It has served him well so far. Though, thanks to the heavy shutters, the light let into the room is so minimal that passing through it would do little more than sting.

There’s another loud knock at the front door and Fenris gets up, realising that his uninvited guest has no intention of giving up and coming back at a more reasonable hour. He picks up his jeans and hoodie from the chair on which he threw them this morning and pulls them on before heading downstairs to answer the door. He is cautious as he does so, entirely out of habit, for the person on the other side is precisely who he had expected it to be. Hawke, wearing the scowl that is as much a part of her usual attire as the leather jacket and ripped jeans.

“You are early,” he comments. 

“What can I say? I just can’t stay away. Let’s go kill something nasty.”

Fenris’ mouth is set in an unimpressed line. “At this hour?” There will be nothing to find. His kind do not venture out until full dark. Hawke knows this.

“I have a lead on a nest down at the docks. I doubt they’ll be expecting visitors so early. Should be fun.”

This is not the first time Fenris has thought that Hawke’s idea of fun is somewhat warped.

It is, however, the first time she has shown up here alone, which strikes Fenris as odd. He steps aside and waves her into the hall before asking, “Will we be meeting your brother?”

Hawke shakes her head. “We don’t need him for this. Between the two of us we can take them.”

It surprises him. Not because he disagrees but because it suggests a certain amount of trust in him he hadn’t expected. Either that or Hawke is arrogant enough to believe she wouldn’t need backup if he did turn on her. The latter is somehow easier to believe than the former but then it has been some time since she has shown any sign of not trusting him.

Fenris doesn’t think he shows any outward sign of reacting to this but maybe Hawke picks something up from his silence because she raises an eyebrow. “What?”

He gives only a slight shake of his head in return. “Nothing.” After a moment, he adds, “Wait here and I will be with you in a moment.”

A short while later, they step out of the manor together. Fenris does not take long to get ready. Living on the run for so many years, he has rather gotten out of the habit of fussing over his appearance. It’s something Danarius would never have let slide which makes it feel like yet another small act of defiance against his former master. He grabs his jacket and attempts to smooth his hair where it has become slightly mussed up from sleeping. As he returns to Hawke, he cannot help but notice how similar their taste in clothing seems to be. They have a shared preference for dark colours. The leather jacket he wears over his tattered hoodie was stolen not long after his escape from Danarius and he has become fond of it since. Far more satisfying than any act of defiance is the feeling of finally recognising his own preferences. He’ll admit it’s a feeling it has taken time to get used to.

With his hood pulled up over his head, the sting of the day’s dying light is insubstantial. It is darker now than when he woke but the streets are illuminated by both the yellow street lamps and purple dusk light that slightly irritates his eyes. 

They walk in silence towards the docks. Hawke seems to be in a hurry. Her face has not relaxed from the scowl she was wearing back at the house and Fenris has the distinct impression that there is something bothering her. But he does not quite feel it is his place to ask so he keeps his questions to himself. 

Fenris is surprised by how well things have progressed with Hawke. He is not yet entirely convinced of the wisdom of trusting her but he has found over the past week that he would like to. Despite her often brash manner, they get on well enough. He, too, could never be accused of being friendly. Perhaps in that sense they understand each other. Strange, with them being what they are. Opposites in many ways, yet so similar in others. 

They make it to the docks as the dusk fades to night. The vampires that dwell within the building Hawke leads him to are stirring now but Hawke seems unconcerned with that. They stand before a large warehouse not far out of Lowtown. It looks to be falling apart even more so than the other buildings in the area, suggesting that any mortals that once worked there are long gone. It’s the kind of place Fenris himself might have chosen to take cover during the day, before he’d settled into the Hightown mansion.

Hawke glances at him. “Seems like my lead was right.” She seems to have some sense for when a vampire is near, which sounds about right for what he knows of hunters. Fenris can smell them. It’s the scent of death that gives away nearly all vampires. “I think we can risk the front door this time.”

Fenris nods. There aren’t enough to be a real concern. Just enough to be a challenge, which from what he has learnt of Hawke, is exactly what she likes. 

Hawke gets them inside easily by heaving her shoulder against the door so that the rotten wood gives way under the force. The space inside is vast and empty but there is a sound of movement from an office room with blacked out windows and sure enough, after a few seconds, the door slams open and out spill several vampires. Their eyes are already dark with hunger as they rush Fenris and Hawke. 

These are not creatures like him. Rather, they are what he might have become, had he not dispised so much the thought of giving up the only thing that was ever his to control: whatever it is that makes him him. He had refused to let his will be diminished so entirely. He had served Danarius - for ten years, he had been unable to conceive of any other life - but he will not serve the demon that shares his skin. Refusing to do so is the only reason he has made it this far.

The vampires before them now clearly have no such notions. Whatever they might have been before is long gone. Their demons are all that is left of them now. It shows in the uncalculated way they fight. Despite their numbers, they are easy to kill, little more than mindless husks coming at them from all sides. Fenris and Hawke take down one after another. 

Fenris cannot fight vampires the way he would mortals. Against slavers, he is careful to spill as little blood as possible, lest he become overwhelmed by the scent and lose himself to the Demon before he is ready. But vampires won’t die from a broken neck or spine. Hawke fights with a stake but Fenris doesn’t need one. Lyrium brands alight, he rips into their chests and tears their hearts entirely free of their bodies. They may fall to the ground as ash soon after but that does not mean the process isn’t messy. It is far bloodier than he would like. But the blood that coats his hands now does not have the appeal of mortal blood, nor could it sate his hunger for as long. The Demon stirs but does not overcome him.

This is how he knows when Hawke is wounded. Even though the stink of blood and death are heavy in the air, the scent of Hawke’s blood comes through, sharp and distracting. The Demon snaps to attention and Fenris whips his head around. 

It is not the first time he has scented Hawkes blood. He wounded her himself the night they met. But it was different when he wanted to kill her. Hawke is on his side now and if she is in danger…

But she does not appear to be. Fenris remembers the way her face looked that night, weeks ago now. The same dark look is in her eyes tonight. It is a look not so far off from those of the creatures surrounding her, as though she’s as thirsty for blood as any of them. She does not slow a bit with the loss of blood but only fights harder. 

A few of the vampires that surrounded Fenris before now turn to Hawke. But not all of them. His distraction nearly costs him. Fortunately, these vampires do not possess the talent that makes him so deadly to them. They scratch at him, their singular goal to draw blood, to feed the never ending hunger that consumes them. It takes only a quick movement and Fenris has the hearts of two of them in his hands. He crushes them and shakes the blood from his hands. Then there are two fewer to worry about. 

Hawke does not appear to be struggling with the growing number upon her. She lands one furious blow after another, jabs with her stake, her eyes burning with grim satisfaction all the while. Fenris does not know what to make of the sight of her. But now is not the time to consider it. He dives in, attempting to ease her burden. Her only response is to fight harder, as though every bloody kill Fenris makes spurs her on until, finally, they are the only two left standing. Breathing hard, she looks over at him. She bares her teeth in a grin and as she does so, her eyes still burn.

Fenris does not understand the feeling that comes over him at the sight of her, all bloody and wild. Perhaps it’s the Demon in him reacting to the scent of her blood. He has not fed tonight and he cannot deny that the Demon wants her, ferocious thing that she is. She would taste so much better than any of the slavers or other lowlives he has contented himself with over the past few years. He has never thought her beautiful before, with her harsh expressions and manner of speech and her features that are just slightly too sharp to be considered pretty. But the thought is there along with the desire that rushes over him. And what in the void is he supposed to do with that?

He turns away from her.

Perhaps sensing something amiss, Hawke allows him the moment he needs to push the Demon back down within. Once it is done, he forces out the words. “You are hurt.”

“I’ll live.” He glances back at her and she gives him a shrewd look. “Is it bothering you?”

If she suspects any of the trouble he is having then she does not appear to be overly concerned by it. Her arrogance is showing again. But he does not mention it, saying only, “I can manage… Though I think you are too reckless.”

She snorts dismissively but then, a moment later, seems to think about it. “Maybe. You’re very efficient when it comes to killing vampires. I like that… I might have got a bit carried away.”

Fenris considers how differently she just fought, compared to the last few times they’ve worked together. She was much more careful when her friends were there with her. “You have little concern for your own life,” he lets some annoyance slip in his tone and Hawke gives him an odd look.

“Didn’t know you cared. You’re wrong though. I just had something on my mind. I needed to work it through. You know, with my fists.”

“That is hardly reassuring.”

She gives him a surprised smirk. “What is there to be reassured about?”

He narrows his eyes, unimpressed with her need to make light of his concern. 

“Okay, never mind,” she says. “You’ve never given me any reason to believe that you aren’t a good guy. Perhaps the concern for others' safety should have been expected.”

That does not make him feel any less confused by her. “You think…?”

“That you seem like a decent person?” She talks like it should be obvious. “Trust me, if I hadn’t thought that from the start - or near enough the start - I wouldn’t have bothered with you.”

Fenris stares at her for a long moment. “I confess I am having trouble keeping up with your priorities.”

She snorts again, but in amusement this time rather than derision. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

He decides to take that advice and they leave the warehouse, heading back out into the early evening. He does not know what Hawke intends to do next. Usually, she will patrol longer than this but with the wounds she has sustained, Fenris doubts it would be wise for her to do so. However, he doubts she would take it well should he try to tell her so. 

Instead he asks, “Did it work?”

Perhaps the question is a little sudden, for Hawke only frowns at him. “Did what work?”

“You said you had something on your mind. That would be why you brought me out here, would it not? Has the fight eased your mind, or do we need to find more of my kind for you to kill?”

It’s the closest he’s come to asking her a personal question since the night in The Hanged Man when he’d wondered how she became a hunter. After that, he’d decided to avoid asking such questions and she mostly does the same for him. Now the question comes to him without thinking. He wonders for a moment if that means he is growing more comfortable around her. And he wonders if that could be a good thing, or if it’s something that would be better avoided. 

Hawke laughs. “Don’t worry, I’m not dragging you to any more warehouses tonight.” She pauses, then answers his question, “I guess it worked. It cleared my head anyway. I…” she frowns but doesn’t really look at him as she continues, “I had an argument with my sister. She’s pretty much the only person that never usually happens with. I said something I didn’t mean and then rather than apologising I just ran off. Like a complete ass. I was being unreasonable.” She sighs. “Funny how throwing a few punches can make that easier to admit.”

The admission is not what he had been expecting. Though he finds her opening up to him is not unwelcome. “I suppose… though I cannot say it is a feeling I completely understand.”

“What, because you’re always reasonable?”

Fenris’ lips quirk slightly. “Perhaps. But no, I mean only that I have no family to argue with. It’s not something I can relate to.” 

“Oh…” she pauses, frowning thoughtfully. “Can I ask you something?”

He eyes her warily, with a few ideas about what she might want to ask. “Perhaps. What do you wish to know?”

“How long have you been a vampire?”

He relaxes slightly. Not so difficult a question to answer, that. “Thirteen years.”

Her eyebrows shoot up as she stares at him. “That’s all?”

He’s not quite sure he understands her surprise. “You thought I would be older?”

“Well, you’re clearly no rookie. Thirteen years, though… I wouldn’t have thought you’d be so in control.”

He gives her a sardonic look. “You think older vampires are?”

She takes a moment to answer that and when she does, she shakes her head, “No. Not like you. But more than the ones we just fought, definitely.” She’s frowning now, clearly trying to figure him out. He supposes he could try to explain how it is for him. About the Demon and that line he always has to draw between it and him. But it feels too personal. Not something he wants to share so easily. So he shrugs his shoulders and says nothing. 

“So you’re - what, thirty… something?” asks Hawke.

“Something like that. Truthfully, I do not know. I can only guess at what age I might have been when I was turned and I have no memory of the time before.”

Hawke looks confused. “What, Iike at all?”

He shakes his head. 

“You don’t remember being mortal. At all?”

He sighs. “I do not.”

Hawke just continues to frown at him for several long seconds. “That’s... not normal, is it?”

Fenris gets the impression that Hawke intends to keep asking him questions until he either asks her to stop or he gives in and tells her the whole story. When he thinks about it, he reasons that she seems to have been honest with him whenever he’s asked her questions. So he tells her the truth - to a certain extent, at least. 

“My earliest memory is of receiving these markings. I was already a vampire at that point, or, at the very least, I was in the midst of my transformation. The pain of having lyrium carved into my skin wiped out all memory of what came before.”

Hawke stares at him and clearly doesn’t know what to say. “Shit… But then, your thing with slavers. I assumed…”

“Correctly,” he answers. It’s not hard to guess what she was going to say. “That’s one thing my former master did tell me. He wanted me to think of what he had made me into as a privilege. But that did not mean he wanted me to forget my place. I was a slave. Before and after. That is all I know.”

Hawke frowns down at the pavement. “I would say I hope you killed the bastard but that incident with the bounty hunters suggests otherwise.”

“Right again.” There is something he has been meaning to talk to Hawke about since the first night he considered working with her. It’s the quiet fury written across her face - fury on his behalf - that finally prompts him to broach the subject. “I do not yet know how I will do it. But I intend to kill him. I cannot ask you to fight for me, but I would welcome your aid. Your resources in particular.”  
  
“You have them.” Hawke’s answer is quick and decisive. “And if that fucker shows his face I want to know. I think it would give me great satisfaction to watch you rip the heart right out of his chest.”

It will not be as easy as that, Fenris knows it, but this is a first for him on several accounts. It is the first time he has spoken of the desire to kill his former master out loud. The first time to have someone agree that he is right to want it… It is the first inkling he has felt in all his years that he might not be alone. 

Fenris could not express how that feels if he tried. He’s not entirely sure it’s safe to feel it at all. So he pushes it down. Instead of thinking about it, he tells her, “Not as much as it will for me when I finally see him dead.”

In that moment the sheer impossibility of it fails to matter. Hawke sends a dark smile in his direction and for one brief moment he can’t help but marvel at his fortune in finding an ally in her. For that moment he believes, for the first time, that his goal is something he might achieve. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are we slowly starting to see something resembling a plot? That's the plan for the next few chapters anyway! 
> 
> The overall chapter count might change a bit more because I keep splitting chapters up to make editing feel a bit more manageable. I'm planning to post the next part whenever it's ready but I'm not going to say when that will be because whenever I say I'm going to update early, I never actually seem to manage it. 
> 
> It was so lovely to hear from everyone who commented last chapter. Thank you all for reading and for the kudos and bookmarks too! I love you all!


	11. Keep trying

Anders is distracted as he makes his way through Darktown, which is generally not a good idea. Darktown is home to the kind of people not many would think twice about if they disappeared, making it the perfect haunt for vampires and slavers. And if Anders were to be confronted by either due to any apparent lack of awareness, it would not be the first time. That was actually how he and Hawke met - well, the second time they met. The first time had been in a bar in Lowtown but they tended not to talk about that. The second time, Anders had been set upon by a group of slavers and Hawke, with no idea that Anders had both his magic - and if that failed, Justice - to protect him, had stepped in and rescued him. She’d taken out the slavers and then called Aveline in to arrest them. It was possible that if Justice had got to them, it would have been no more than they deserved, but it would also have been a lot messier. Anders had felt as though he owed her one and surprisingly, it hadn’t taken long at all for him to repay the debt. A few weeks later, Hawke had shown up at his clinic with a wounded Merrill in tow and Anders had most likely saved her friend’s life.

But tonight, as Anders makes his way through the dingy underground streets, away from a fairly fruitless meeting with the Mage Underground, he isn’t bothered. It is either luck or it’s because of his reputation as the Darktown healer. The people here would be at a loss if anything happened to him. And while It doesn’t keep him safe from vampires, it helps. 

He turns the corner into the area where his clinic is located and it takes him a few seconds to notice that there’s someone lurking outside the clinic door. The light above the door is turned off, as it always is when he’s not in, so for a second he’s suspicious that someone seems to be trying to gain access. But only until he recognises the black clad figure as Hawke. Surprising - and more than a little uncomfortable given that they haven’t talked in about a week - but preferable to somebody trying to rob him.

“Hawke,” he calls to her as he approaches. She turns from the door to look at him and he frowns at her. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“I could ask you the same,” says Hawke, eyeing him warily. “Isn’t it a bit late to be opening up?”

Anders comes to a stop in front of her and still isn’t quite sure what to do with the fact that neither of them have spoken more than a few words to each other in a week. In the end he figures Hawke wouldn’t come and seek him out for nothing. He might as well answer her question. “I had a meeting. And then I needed to come back here and go over a few things. What about you?”

Hawke shrugs. “Got in a fight. You know, the usual… plus I needed to talk to you.”

Anders watches her face, frowning still. Has she… come to apologise? It seems unlikely. But he can’t think of what else it might be. He sighs. “Okay, well… are you alright?”

Hawke gives him a funny look. “Yeah, fine. I’ve got a few scratches but mostly I just needed to talk.”

“Okay, yes…” he rubs a hand over his face before telling her, “I suppose I do too, actually.” 

It’s the truth but Anders’ isn’t quite sure he’d meant to commit to it so soon. But he’s been going over his options for a week, already. Maybe finally telling someone is the only thing he can do. 

“Great,” says Hawke, and her expression still gives nothing away. “You want to go in, or are you doing this outside these days? It’s free advertising, I guess.”

Anders can’t help how his lips twitch at that. He takes the keys from the inside pocket of his jacket and steps up to the door, telling her, “That’s the last thing I need.”

He lets them both in and leads Hawke through to his office. Hawke strides in through the door he holds open for her and hops up onto the examination table, already shrugging off her jacket. She turns the leather over in her fingers to inspect a tear in the sleeve. “Fucking vampires,” she mutters. “You think at some point Merrill’s going to start refusing to fix this for me?”

“We’re thinking of the same Merrill, aren’t we? Does she know how to say ‘no’ to you?” Anders steps over to her and takes a looks at the large cut on her arm. It looks as though it might have started to clot earlier but in removing her jacket it has slowly started to bleed again. He holds his palm over the wound and draws on his magic to knit the flesh back together and burn away any beginnings of infection. Then he does the same for a few smaller cuts.

“So, the meeting,” Hawke says. “Let me guess - it was about that bombshell Meredith dropped on us today.”  
  
Anders sighs. It’s amazing how easily his stress levels can soar from one question. “There’s been talk of it for a while actually. It’s not the first time certain templars have campaigned to bring back the Rite. But for Meredith to acknowledge it publicly - that’s worrying.”

Hawke looks at him with a slight frown but her voice is calm as she asks, “Do you think she can do it? I mean surely anyone with more than a handful of brain cells can see that it’s not going to help the situation.”

“The idea is unpopular. But I wouldn’t underestimate her,” Anders states grimly. “We still need to act against her to be certain she won’t go through with it. It’s possible that we could use this as a way to convince people that she’s unsuitable for her position - if anyone would even listen. Mages are too used to being ignored.” And Anders is too used to the feeling of walking away from meetings with the Underground feeling like they’re getting nowhere. For every mage they manage to save there are a hundred others that they can’t get to and too many of them are turning to exactly the kind of mesures Meredith is so void-bent on stopping. If only the Underground’s reach extended further, they might actually be able to help. Because Maker knows, Meredith’s methods certainly aren’t going to do that.

Anders looks at Hawke, suddenly remembering himself and shakes his head. “But you don’t want to hear about this,” he sighs, failing to keep the sudden rush of bitterness out of his voice as he recalls her words at The Hanged Man last week. He’s still not quite sure if he’s forgiven her for the way she went about recruiting Fenris either. Though he has admittedly had other things on his mind since then.

Hawke frowns and doesn’t meet his eyes. Her fingers clench and unclench around the jacket she holds in her hands. And eventually she comes out with it. “Look, I’m sorry about brushing you off over that. It’s just… I knew if you started, that would set Garrett off, and then… don’t you just ever want a break from thinking about it?”

He gives her a cool look. “I can’t just not think about it, Hawke. It’s my life. It’s the lives of every other circle mage who wasn’t able to get away like I did. You know what I am. How am I supposed to relax and just forget the injustices mages face every single day?”

Anders has to battle back another surge of the same helpless anger he’s been feeling for the entire day. No, for his entire life, amplified now because of Justice. This, what the templars are considering, is not just. That Meredith should be in any position of power is not just.

“You okay there?” asks Hawke, eyes finally meeting his and looking far from comfortable, alarmed even. He can only assume that she saw some flash of Justice in him then. It happens sometimes. Even after so many years, he still needs to be better at controlling that.

“Yeah... fine, Hawke,” he mutters. 

There’s silence for a moment while Anders considers just how tired he feels all of a sudden. His thoughts are eventually interrupted by Hawke. He can tell by her frown that she’s still reluctant to talk about it. But she tries and even does an impressive job of keeping fairly calm about it as she explains, “I’m not trying to dismiss your experiences as a mage. I know it’s been bad. But it’s not like I’m coming from a place of complete ignorance. Sometimes I _do_ want a break and you know I’m never going to walk away from my family. I don’t _want_ to do that. I just don’t think one evening where we talk about something else for a change is too much to ask for.”

Anders kind of wants to argue but he’s tired and as difficult as it is to accept, he does sort of empathise with Hawke. On some level, he gets it. He knows the person he was before Justice probably would have had an easier time understanding where she’s coming from. It’s Justice that’s having real trouble here, who still sometimes has to be reminded of human limitations. Anders feels like he barely stops and still barely manages to get anything accomplished. It’s hard to remember sometimes that it might not always be his fault. The problem is just too big for any one person to take on. Hawke is not the enemy, he has to remember. She’s doing more than most.

“Okay, I get it,” he finally relents. “Maybe this time I overreacted.”

“And maybe I was… rude,” Hawke reluctantly admits. 

Anders smirks but manages not to say anything. As tempting as it is to gloat - just a little - he should probably avoid discouraging Hawke from admitting she was wrong about something. It’s already a rare enough occurrence. 

“Anyway,” Hawke says, sounding eager to change the subject, “this is different, right? With the latest templar crap, I mean. Usually it’s just stubborn refusal to move forward based on the same claim that mages have already been given enough leniency. But what they want now is to take a massive leap backwards. It’s not going to be just mages who are against that.”

He blinks at her in surprise. He’s never pegged Hawke for an optimist. So maybe that’s why her words offer a small measure of comfort that he’s been unable to find all day. That and how this is the first time in too long that he’s felt her come close to actually opening up to him. It reminds him a little of how things used to be with them, before she started feeling the need to push him away at every opportunity. He remembers suddenly, how much it always meant to him to have a non-mage who agreed with him. Her support gave him a particular kind of hope he’d never known before. 

He’s been keeping his distance for most of the week. Because he was angry with her for siding with Fenris and because with everything else he’s had on his mind, he hasn’t known how to deal with that. But while she hasn’t brought up Fenris tonight, he wonders if it really is just as Garrett said, if she truly does have her reasons and Anders simply has to have a little more faith in her. Besides, if he’s truly going to go through with what he’s been thinking these past few days, he can hardly keep holding the Fenris thing against her. 

He decides to give her a chance. “Maybe… maybe you can help. You could talk to the Viscount. I know that he’s very much under Meredith’s thumb but he knows who you are and what you do for the city. And that you actually know what you’re talking about when it comes to vampires. You could convince him that this plan won’t actually work.”  
  
Hawke does not look as though that was a suggestion she was in any way expecting. Anders has to admit that it might be useless as far as plans go. Even if Viscount Dumar can be convinced there’s no guarantee that he would actually move against Meredith. But he’s also sure that if anyone stands a chance, it’s Hawke. After she saved Dumar’s son from a vampire attack last year, she has more sway with him than anyone in the Mage Underground ever could. 

“Okay,” she says eventually and Anders allows himself a small sigh of relief. “I can’t promise anything but I’ll try to arrange a meeting.”

“Thank you, Hawke. The fact that you’re willing to help at all… I can’t tell you how important that is.” 

“Yeah, yeah…” she waves him off, suddenly sounding a lot more like the Hawke he’s become used to recently. But he finds he doesn’t mind that. The important thing is that she agreed. Before he can say anything more about it, she starts to frown. “You know, Bethany wants to help too.”

Anders freezes, recognising the sensitive subject for what it is. “I know,” he tells her cautiously. 

She looks him in the eye. “I know I can’t stop her - that I shouldn’t even be trying to stop her from doing what she believes is right - but I have to ask: Anders, please don’t let her get hurt by this.”

She says it so seriously that despite her clearly trying to hide it, Anders can see how upset she is. “You know I haven’t asked her to help. Beyond what she does in the clinic, I mean. I know you aren’t even completely comfortable with that.”

“Just promise me, Anders. You’ll keep her safe.”

Slowly, Anders nods. “I’ll do what I can. Getting Bethany hurt - or any mage for that matter - is the last thing I want.”

Some of that usual hardness returns to Hawke’s expression and she says, “She’s not any mage. She’s my sister.”

“I know,” he replies softly. Bethany is important to him too. He understands. “I’ll look out for her, I promise.”

Hawke relaxes a little. “Okay… I believe you.” 

She lets out an unsteady breath. Anders doesn’t know what it is that has her so worked up all of a sudden but he wants to help. He has the urge, looking at her, to reach out and place a comforting hand on her shoulder. But he doesn’t - doesn’t want to risk crossing that boundary they’d layed out so long ago now. Instead he just tells her. “We can’t give up. Not until it’s safe for mages to be themselves, truly unbound by the chains the Circle would have us all wear.”

Hawke nods but it’s half hearted, like she’s thinking about something else entirely. He has to try not to let that bother him because something is clearly on Hawke’s mind. “What is it?”

Frowning still, she shakes her head. “It’s nothing…” she starts but then, before Anders can press she goes on of her own accord, “You know, earlier, Bethany accused me of being as bad as the Circle, keeping her locked up at home.”

Anders’ eyes widen. “She can’t have meant that.”

“We were arguing. It’s stupid, really. I think I was out of order. I just panicked when she told me she wanted to do more to help you and it was right after seeing fucking Meredith on the news talking about Tranquility.”

He gives her a sympathetic look. “Bethany knows how much you care about her. I can definitely empathise with how frustrated she feels but I know she knows where you’re coming from. You’ll work it out. Though it might mean having a little more faith in her.”

Hawke scowls but her answer is, “I know. Ugh. This day has been too fucking weird. I never argue with Beth and now you’re the one comforting me and I haven’t even yelled at you once. And you know, I think Fenris and I might be becoming friends or something which - honestly, who could have predicted that?”

Anders gives her one of his more sarcastic looks that does nothing to mask the bitterness that admission conjures up. “A truly shocking revelation, that.”

“Oh, piss off.”

“Huh. There you are. Feel better?”

She smirks like she can’t help it. “A little.”

And what better opening than that is there to move onto the subject he’d been meaning to talk to her about before all of this business with Bethany or the Templars? It really couldn’t be more perfect. He and Hawke are talking, not fighting, and she’s been more open with him than she has been in a long time. And as little as he actually wants to do it, the likelihood of it getting any easier is slim. So he takes a breath and begins, “I’ve been thinking. About Fenris.” Hawke eyes him warily but Anders makes himself go on before she can say what she’s obviously thinking. “Do you really trust him? I mean, truly?”

Hawke sighs. “Haven’t we been over this?”

Not really, he wants to answer, but he bites back the retort before he can ruin his chance of talking to her civilly. He gives her the most open, honest look he can muster. “Hawke, I want to know. My own personal feelings aside, I need to know your honest opinion. It… it might be important.”

She gives him a look that’s a strange mix of doubtful and intrigued. “My honest opinion? I… trust him. I think he’s a good guy. That’s just what my gut tells me and I tend to go with these things.”

Anders considers this. It mostly confirms the conclusion he’d already come to on his own. Hawke knows what she’s doing when it comes to vampires and she would not have put her family at risk if she didn’t think he could be trusted. He takes a few steps away from the examination table before sinking into the chair at his desk. He’s been thinking about this a lot but even now he doesn’t know what he’s going to do about it. 

“You want to tell me what this is about?” Hawke asks him, not breaking eye contact as she leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. 

“I need to talk to him. To Fenris.”

“Sounds like a terrible idea. Why?”

“I…” Anders doesn’t know how to go about explaining. He’s known Hawke for years. But he’s never spoken about this before. He’s never wanted to. “I’ve had dealings with vampires in the past. Before I ever knew you.”

“And?” Hawke prompts.

“And I lost someone. Someone important to me.”

“To the vampires?”

It’s been years and it’s still more than he feels able to talk about. He has to force the answer out around the lump in his throat. “Yes. But not - not in the way you’re thinking. He’s not dead... They made him one of them.”

Hawke’s dark eyebrows have drawn together and it’s a moment before she speaks. “They made him a vampire. Your friend?” She must see something in his expression then because it doesn’t take her long to amend, “Your… boyfriend?”

He can only nod. 

Anders has never seen Hawke look at him quite like that before. “Shit. Anders… you never…”

No. He’d never told her. “I tried to draw a line under it. I convinced myself there was nothing I could do. That he was as good as dead. I’d tried for so long to find some way of fixing it but there didn’t seem to be anything. I was only just starting to come to terms with that around the time I met you. But now there’s Fenris and… if you really think he can be your friend… then…”

He can’t quite bring himself to say it. But Hawke knows what he means. “You think there might be a chance for…”

“Karl,” Anders whispers. “Yes.”

Hawke looks at him like she doesn’t quite know how to say what she’s thinking. An odd sight. Delicacy is not something she usually bothers with and it’s far from one of her strong points. But she seems to think it’s required now. “I… don’t know about this, Anders. If he was still the person you once knew, wouldn’t he have sought you out before now?”

He’s considered that, of course. “Maybe. But then maybe he thinks staying away is for the best.”

“In that case, he’d possibly be right.”

It’s not a surprising answer from Hawke but Anders can’t help his wince. He tries to explain, “I’m not thinking about getting back together. I know things could never be the way they used to be. But I still… I want to know. If he’s still there. If he’s okay. If he’s alive, even.”

Hawke remains unsmiling but she seems to accept this. “Where does Fenris come into it? He’s not exactly friends with the other vampires around here.”

“I don’t know,” Anders sighs. He’d had enough trouble just bringing himself to broach the subject with Hawke. It wasn’t like he had a clear plan of action marked out. “I suppose I just thought that if he’s different to the others then perhaps by talking to him, I could make sense of how. Maybe he could explain it. Has he said anything to you?” 

“I got the impression it was a touchy subject. In any case, you haven’t exactly endeared yourself to him.”

“Yes, well, he hates mages. What am I supposed to do about that?” Anders does not manage to keep the bitterness from his voice saying that. 

Hawke’s response is dry, “But, you know, I think it was the ‘vampires are evil and not to be trusted speech that really made him snap.”

Anders throw his arms up at his sides, gesturing emphatically, “And I hope I was wrong about it. But you can’t say you didn’t think the same way before you met him.”

Hawke shrugs. “Okay so... you want me to talk to him? Or convince him to talk to you?”

Anders sinks back in his chair. As far as plans go, it’s really not much. Just hearing it laid out like that really puts an emphasis on the fact that his hopes all currently rest on a vampire who already likely wants nothing to do with him after the terrible first impression he’d made. What has his life come to that he’s regretting something like that? “Just see if he’d be willing. I can talk to him if you can get him to agree but if you could be there too then I’m hoping that would help.”

She looks at him for a moment, then sighs. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Hawke. I know I hardly deserve it but I’ll think of some way to repay you.”

Hawke just rolls her eyes at that. “I think the fact that there is no longer a large weeping gash on my arm is a pretty decent repayment. Keep that shit up and we’re good.”

Anders’ smile feels a little weak. “If you say so.”

He’s grateful to Hawke, there’s no question of that. But now that he’s finally voiced those thoughts out loud and made a step towards acting on them, the possibility that he could be wrong looms over him. And that scares him just about as much as he’d expected it to. But he can’t rid himself of that feeling of hope that’s been creeping up on him all week and because of that, he has to do this. He has to try.

Hawke pushes herself off the table, lands on heavily booted feet and turns to grab her jacket. “Okay, time to go,” she says, pulling it on. “Apparently I need to give Bethany an apology. And possibly Garrett too.” She sighs then narrows her eyes thoughtfully at Anders. “My family are weirdly fond of you. I think perhaps I could bring you back with me as a peace offering.”

Anders blinks. “I’m sorry - you want to do what?” 

“You know, ‘sorry, I’m a dick. Anyway, here’s Anders’. You think it could work?”

“I honestly don’t know what to say to that.” Is she trying to be nice? He really can’t tell. 

“You don’t have to say anything. Just stand there and look pretty.”

Anders lets out a surprised laugh. “Now I know you’re just messing with me.”

Hawke shrugs. “You got everything?”

“I-” he hesitates. He’d meant to get some work done tonight. But in the wake of everything he’s just talked about, Anders has to admit he’s not sure he’s up to it. It can probably wait until tomorrow. Quite honestly, he’s exhausted after the week he’s had. “Okay. Yes, let’s go.”

Hawke waits for him while he locks up the clinic and then they set off towards Hightown together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhh… you all knew this was coming, right? 
> 
> Thank you all for reading! 💖


	12. Further negotiations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate titling chapters. Why do I torture myself this way? (I mean, it's so I can more easily remember which chapter is which but whatever...)
> 
> A fast update but for a really short chapter. I might as well have just tagged this one onto the end of the last. But it's done now so never mind. The next chapter is probably going to be longer and might be a little later than the usual Thursday update.

Marian isn’t entirely sure how to broach the topic of Anders’ request with Fenris. She and Fenris get along well enough but she suddenly can’t quite help but remember how little they actually know each other. As well as this arrangement between them has been going, she’s pretty sure they’re not at the request-a-favour-for-a-friend-of-mine-you-don’t-even-like stage of their relationship. And he really did not seem to like Anders. Even if Anders is willing to put first impressions behind him, Marian finds it difficult to judge the likelihood of Fenris being willing to do the same. 

Thinking back on her conversation with Anders, she’s honestly amazed that she even agreed to put herself in this situation. First, agreeing to talk to the Viscount, and then this. It isn’t her problem. The first favour, she can understand. After her rescue of Seamus last year, she’s spoken to Dumar a few times. There’s no reason she wouldn’t be able to at least get a meeting with him. But trying to mediate between two people who have started out so determinedly on the wrong foot? That’s not looking great, as far as Marian is concerned.

Still, she wasn’t quite able to bring herself to say no to Anders this time. Even more than that, she really had wanted to help him. Everything he’s been through… Marian can’t believe she’s known him so long and is only just finding out about this. How painful must it have been for him to have gone all this time without ever saying anything?

Marian has never been in love. Her general opinion on the matter is that it’s something she’d rather avoid. She’s seen what it can do to people: how her mother gave up everything to be with her father and how it was as though her whole world had collapsed when he died. Leandra was never the same after, like she didn’t know who she was without Malcolm. And that was an extreme, Marian knows, but then there had been practical Bethany, lost in daydreams over a boy who lived nearby when they were younger. Then Garrett, who had been a heartbroken mess after breaking up with his first boyfriend. And she’d always thought Carver foolish with his jealousy over the attention Garrett received for his charm and good looks. Marian saw it all and wanted none of it. She couldn’t, still can’t stand the thought of letting another person have that sort of power over her. 

She has been extremely dismissive of Anders in the past, with all of his longing looks and how, despite his insistence that he didn’t want a relationship, he never seemed willing to give up his frustrating attachment to her. But, seeing the look on his face as he’d told her about the former lover who had been taken from him in such a cruel manner, she couldn’t dismiss that. She might hate the idea of romance but she knows love and loss. It is no stretch for her to empathise with him.

After all, she lost her own mother to a vampire attack. And Marian had already been training to fight vampires for years. If she’d been there she might have saved her. But she hadn’t - she hadn’t been able to do a thing. And there’s nothing she can do to fix that now. So, yes, she feels for him in this.

Anders had seen his lover change, become something that wore his face, walked around in his skin, but wasn’t him. Would likely never be anything like him again.

And he’d seen no other choice but to walk away. But Marian had seen the hope and fear in Anders’ expression as he’d talked about the possibility that he’d been wrong. She couldn’t deny him the opportunity to find answers, if possible. She is more worried about it than she’d like to admit, though.

The first obstacle is going to be getting Fenris to hear Anders out. She tries late one evening, when the two of them are out on one of her regular patrols. It’s been a quiet night and the two of them walk side by side through the Lowtown streets. They’ve talked a little but mostly they walk in silence. Marian appreciates that he doesn’t need to fill any silence between them with meaningless chatter. It’s a relief from the constant noise that she’s used to. She wouldn’t give up her friends and family for the world but that doesn’t mean they aren’t exhausting. Fenris is easy to be around. And she gets that most people probably wouldn’t think that about him but she doesn’t care. It works fine for her. 

Except for moments like this when she’s pretty sure there’s no non-awkward way to say what she’s thinking and the silence really isn’t helping as much as she might have thought it would. 

In the end, she opts for, “So, you remember my friend Anders, right?”

The look he gives her is disdainful at best. Not a great start. Marian wonders, once again, what she’s got herself into. She notes to herself that she is really not as much a fan of being on the receiving end of one of those looks as she is dishing them out. “The mage?” is all Fenris says.

“You two really didn’t hit it off that night, did you?”

Fenris shrugs. “So long as he stays out of my way, I hardly see how it matters.”

Right. Again, wonderful start.

“Is it the mage thing? Because I work with a lot of mages. That’s not going to be an issue, is it?”

He gives her another one of those looks. “I was content to say no more on the subject. I know what I am. There is a demon inhabiting this body with me. A creature of magic. I cannot judge your mages without taking that into account. But, if you wish for my opinion: magic is a curse, a plague that leaves nothing but destruction and misery in its wake.”

Marian rubs a hand over her face and mutters, “Okay. Glad I asked… Sort of. I’m not even sure if that was an answer to my question.”

“Your brother,” Fenris begins quietly and Marian tenses because she really doesn’t want to have to kick Fenris’ arse if he starts talking shit about Garrett. Bitching about his terrible jokes is fair game, but she won’t tolerate anyone starting on him for simply being a mage. She braces herself for whatever he’s about to say but all that comes is, “He seems reasonable. I would not object to working with him again in the future.”

She looks at him in surprise for a moment then narrows her eyes. Reasonable? “You’re talking about Garrett?” 

“Do you have any other brothers?” Fenris asks, tone dry.

“Just one,” she answers stiffly. “He’s dead, though.”

“Ah,” says Fenris, realising his mistake. “My apologies. I did not realise… I am sorry for your loss.” One look at his face says the topic is not in any way familiar territory for him but Marian is more than ready to dismiss it.

“It’s fine. I was trying to talk about Anders.” Fenris’ look of distaste suggests he might have preferred the awkward dead brother conversation. Too bad. “What if the two of you just got off on the wrong foot?”

“Hawke,” Fenris cuts her off before she can continue. “What is this about?”

“Ugh… Okay. Here it is: Anders’ ex is a vampire.”

Fenris stops walking and The Look intensifies. “This conversation is turning out to be more foolish than I feared.”

Marian scowls and holds up a hand. “Okay, can you stop giving me sass for a moment while I actually talk?”

He narrows his eyes and his lips thin into a dissatisfied line that suggests all kinds of sass being being held back so that Marian might be allowed to speak. She takes the opportunity, “I don’t know all the details but I’ve filled in a few of the gaps. So, Anders and this guy Karl were together. But then Karl was turned. Anders didn’t really get too far into the how of that but, as you could probably imagine, that was it for their relationship. I get the impression that Anders was in denial about it for a while, trying to figure out if there was a way to save him - if there might be something of the person he knew left there somewhere. But, eventually, he gave up. Started going down the whole vampires are all the same route. Evil, murderers, et cetera. And I think that’s just the place he was coming from when you met the other night.”

Fenris, who has been listening to this with an expression that is no more impressed now than it had been to begin with, says only, “Good. He is not wrong.”  
  
Marian just doesn’t even bother with the part where ‘good’ is the opposite of how he’d reacted to Anders the night they’d met. “Except, the general consensus is that you’re a decent guy.”

“And what does this have to do with me?”

Marian sucks in a long slow breath. Honestly, she hates this. But she’d promised she would try to convince Fenris, so here she is, trying to convince him. “Just the fact that you’re willing to fight on our side tells us that a lot of what we thought we knew about vampires is off. Anders was just hoping you might have some insight into it all.”

Fenris’ expression remains hard as he gives his answer, “As I said, he is - or was - not wrong.”

Marian folds her arms and glares at him. “So that’s it? You’re not willing to even talk to him?”

He raises his eyes to search hers, still frowning. Eventually, he asks, “Is that what you wish?”

“I mean, if you really have a problem with it, it’s not like I’d try to force you. But yeah… He may be sort of a pain in the ass sometimes but he’s still my friend. And this issue is upsetting him so I’m going to help if I can.”

Fenris looks at her for a long time after that. Then he says, “You are good to your friends, Hawke.”

She frowns. “Okay.” She’s not sure what the observation has to do with what they’re talking about now. Feeling just a little awkward, she tries to brush it off. “Is that important somehow?”

Fenris smirks and Marian tries not to enjoy the sight of the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “It’s merely an observation.”

“Right. Well, thanks, I guess?”

He laughs so softly that Marian isn’t sure she heard right. She wonders if her friends might be having a bad influence on him because there’s a strong possibility that he is laughing at her. She isn’t given much of a choice to think it through though because Fenris soon returns to the subject at hand. “I will help,” he tells her. “As payment for the debt I owe you.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Um. Not that I’m complaining, but I wasn’t aware you owed me anything.”

“For your assistance with the bounty hunters,” Fenris explains. 

Marian still isn’t quite getting that. “I thought we already had a deal about that. The fact that you’re here means you’re fulfilling your end of it.”

He shakes his head. “You have promised me many things. And I have little to give in return.”

She thinks about it and sees his point. She doesn’t like being in debt to people much either. Besides, if it means he’s willing help, who is she to complain? “All right, then. Come talk to Anders for me and we’ll call it even.”

Fenris nods and his green eyes meet hers again. Marian finds them a little hard to look away from. “We have a deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! And of course thank you for the comments, kudos, bookmarks... I love you guys!! ❤️


	13. Road trip!

If anyone had ever asked Garrett before tonight what he thought it would be like to be trapped in a cramped five-seater with a surly looking vampire in the back, his first answer would probably not have been _‘awkward as fuck’_. 

Or maybe it would. It’s hard to say. 

But the point is that most people would probably assume the journey to be over before it began because that’s how long it would generally take for the vampire to kill and eat any non-vampires present. But instead of actually killing Garrett and Marian, Fenris just sort of looks like he wants to kill them. Garrett can’t quite tell if that’s something to be worried about, or if that’s just what his face is like. He settles on hoping for the latter.

The three of them are currently on their way to Darktown to pick up Anders from his clinic and then they’re off to Sundermount. The four of them. Together. In this very small car. 

Apparently it was Anders’ idea. He’d wanted to talk to Fenris about something and that had coincided with a job near Sundermount that Marian had lined up. Garrett supposes he shouldn’t complain. When Marian had asked him to provide backup - whether against the vampires they were after, or should the conversation between Anders and Fenris go south, it’s unclear - he had agreed to it. 

It’s not that Garrett has an issue with Fenris. He seems fine. The awkwardness is due to the fact that the radio in this very old, very small car is broken and nobody is talking. Garrett has tried to start a conversation a few times but Fenris isn’t much of a chatterbox and neither is his sister for that matter. He could probably get her talking if he riled her up a bit but he’s really not sure the situation calls for it. He’s tempted to try anyway, though. 

He thinks for a moment that the situation might be saved when they pull up near the stairway to Darktown where they’d agreed to meet Anders and he’s already waiting for them. There’s an uncomfortable few seconds when Anders spies Fenris sitting in the back of the car and clearly doesn’t want to take the seat next to him. But then Garrett turns and asks Fenris if he wants to switch seats. He agrees and Anders is visibly relieved when a moment later, he climbs into the back seat of the car next to Garrett.

Much better, Garrett thinks, despite the fact that the two people with the longest legs are now crammed into the smallest available space. Maybe he should have thought that one through. But there are much worse people to be trapped in a confined space with and Anders, at least, is generally more receptive to Garrett’s attempts to talk.

But his heart doesn’t seem to be in it tonight. One look at Anders tells Garrett that there is clearly something on his mind making him more subdued than Garrett has ever seen him before. He wonders what this little meetup can be about. Marian didn’t give many details when she asked him along. Apparently Anders had been okay with her bringing him, though so he figures he’ll find out in time. 

Whatever it is Anders wants to talk about, he doesn’t bring it up on the way to Sundermount. They deal with the problem there first. A vampire group has settled into one of the mountain caves and have been preying on people living in the area. It doesn’t take Garrett long to wonder why he agreed to this. Vampires he can handle but he could very happily go the rest of his life without ever seeing another giant spider, which the caves around here are full of. Thankfully, it being night time, the vampires are out hunting and not in the caves after all. They don’t have to wait long before the vampires come to them.

The downside of being so far out of town is that they only have the moonlight and a glowing wisp Anders has summoned to see by as they fight. Generally, Garrett prefers a hands on approach to battle. There are ways to fight using magic without it obviously looking like any magic is being used at all. Tonight he opts to forgo subtlety in favour of summoning a few fireballs. Add a few flaming vampires to the scene and it’s not so difficult to see by after all. Once the battle is finished, he smothers any remaining flames with a frost spell and hopes that the Sundermount park rangers won’t be too angry with him over the scorch marks.

They poke about a while longer but finding nothing more than a few stray spiders, they decide to head back towards the car. They’ve walked for little more than five minutes when Marian finally comes out with, “You know I was under the impression that we all came out here for a specific reason, not to stew in awkward silence.”

“Thank you!” cries Garrett. “I didn’t want to be the one to say it but…” he tails off when he sees Anders’ strained expression.

“If the mage wishes to speak then he should do so,” says Fenris.

“Unless it’s a matter of privacy,” suggests Garrett. “I could always walk ahead if that would help.”

“No, please…” Anders replies. Then he sighs. “Could we sit, perhaps?”

They remember from the way in that they’re not far off from a picnic area and agree to head back there, where Anders immediately sinks onto a bench. He sits there, hunched over with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. His face is set in a deep frown.

Marian slips off her jacket and places it on the ground so that she can sit without her jeans being soaked by the damp grass. Fenris chooses not to sit at all and instead leans against a nearby tree. So Garrett opts for the empty space on the bench next to Anders and resists the urge to place a comforting hand on the other man’s back. It would be presumptuous, he decides. He doesn’t even know what the matter is yet.

“How much did Hawke tell you?” Anders asks eventually, turning his frown on Fenris.

“The basics,” Fenris replies. “That you had a lover who was turned into a vampire against his will and you wish to know if there is anything that can be done for him.”

“That… that about sums it up,” says Anders unhappily.

If Garrett had had any guesses about what it was Anders wanted to talk about tonight, that would not have even made the list. He sees the pain written on Anders’ face and feels for him intensely. He feels like he should say something but doesn’t know what. And then Fenris beats him to it anyway.

“Tell me everything you think may be relevant and I will try to advise you. Though I should warn you, there may not be much hope.”  
Garrett can see Anders trying not to let his disappointment show but it’s all there in the slump of his shoulders, in the furrow in his brow. “Maker,” he says, “I thought I’d put all this behind me. How much of an idiot am I to drag it all back up again.”

Hearing that, the vulnerability in his voice, Garrett can’t help himself any longer. He reaches out and clasps a hand on Anders’ shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, Anders,” he says gently. “We’ll listen to whatever you have to say. And if there’s anything we can do to help, we will.”

Anders turns to look at Garrett in surprise which quickly turns to something that looks faintly like gratitude. Garrett gives his shoulder another light squeeze before dropping his hand.

“Go ahead, Anders,” says Marian. Her expression is grim but her voice is about as gentle as it ever really gets.

Anders takes a breath and nods. When he speaks, he isn’t looking at any of them but at the ground between his knees. “It happened about five years ago. When I first came to Kirkwall. Karl was the reason for that. He used to work for the Circle in Ferelden, same as me. We’d been together for three years when the Templars had Karl transferred to Kirkwall. Said he was needed more here but… it wasn’t that. If that had really been it, he might have been given a choice. Or they’d have let me go with him. They were deliberately trying to separate us. I know they were. 

“I did follow eventually, obviously, but it took a while. I quit my job - basically had to run away. I joined the wardens because it was the only way to stop the templars from dragging me back to where they wanted me. But that didn’t exactly help me get any closer to Karl. It was a little less than a year before I made it to Kirkwall. I planned to find Karl and convince him to leave with me. It didn’t work out. The templars caught on to him before we could get away… They threw him in the Gallows. He hadn’t - All we wanted was to be together. Karl hadn’t done anything wrong and they charged him with conspiring against the Circle. He was a good man but they locked him up. Possibly just to get at me. I was so angry I would have raided the Gallows myself just to get him out of there. Only I couldn’t do that. Even with - well, I needed help. 

“There was this couple… This was before I’d properly established the clinic but I was still healing people when I could. That was how they found me. One of them said they had a sister in the Gallows. Thrown in there on false charges. It didn’t really take much for me to believe them. I wanted to help and if there were other mages I could get out of there with Karl then that was a bonus. 

“We organised the break out using the old lyrium smugglers’ tunnels. The plan was to get the mages out and head to a safehouse they’d set up nearby. It was the same place we’d been using to plan it all. We were going to lay low while we worked to find safe places for each of the mages from there.

“And we did it. We got a group of them out, Karl included. There really wasn’t anything leading up to that point that might have suggested anything else going on. Karl went ahead while I stayed to make sure no one got left behind. So I was late when I got back to the safe house. I thought Karl would be waiting for me. But I didn’t see him anywhere. Instead there were people there I’d never seen before. Vampires. That was the first point it even occurred to me that I’d been tricked. I found out later that they were part of a vampire gang, recruiting mages to give them an edge against their rivals. 

“When they came at me, I fought them off. I was… uncontrollable in my rage. Desperately looking for Karl while taking out anyone who tried to stand in my way. I think some of the mages got away but honestly that part was all sort of a blur. The only thing I remember with any real clarity is when I found him and I realised I was too late. There was a wound on his neck and the blood from the one that turned him was still dripping from his mouth. I knew it was done. They’d forced a demon inside him. 

“He tried to fight it but he told me that he could feel it there inside him. Always fighting to take him over. But at that point it still felt like him. I hoped that there would be a way to live with it. I wouldn’t have cared that he was different if it meant I wouldn’t lose him. But it was too much for him. He stayed with me for a few days and then he left, said he couldn’t hurt me the way the demon inside him wanted to. He said he wasn’t strong enough to control it. 

“I haven’t seen him since.” 

By the end of Anders’ story, not one of them seems to know what to say. Garrett remembers Bethany telling him that Anders had had a hard life but he wonders if she can even have known about this. It doesn’t seem like a story he’s recounted often, if ever.

“Maker,” he says eventually, “Anders, I’m sorry that you had to go through something like that.”

A bitter expression crosses over Anders’ face and he shakes his head. “It was my fault. Those mages were led into a trap because of my stupidity.”

“You have to give the templars some of the credit,” says Marian. One look at her face says that while she’s trying to retain her composure, it’s clear the story has got to her as much as it has to Garrett. “They’re the ones who put you in that position in the first place. It’s not the first time I’ve heard of it happening. They really don’t need an excuse, do they?”

“Believe me, I’ve not forgotten that,” Anders mutters. 

It’s disgusting, Garrett agrees silently. The idea that they were acting deliberately to keep apart two people who loved each other is worse. But it’s not the Templars that they came here to discuss. Garrett remembers something Anders had told him the last time the four of them had been together.

“You tried, didn’t you? Even after he left, you kept looking for some way for him to learn control over what he’d become.”

Anders nods. “For months I could think about nothing else. And it wasn’t just that I wanted him back, though I wanted it more than anything… but it was my fault and I felt as though I needed to make it right somehow. I read every book on the nature of vampires. Talked to anyone who might have known anything about it. I tried talking to vampires and might even have got into trouble if I hadn’t been capable of defending myself. Everything I found told me that Karl had had no other choice but to leave when he did - or, no, he’d had a choice, but it would have ended with one of us killing the other. There must still have been enough of him left then to know how little of a choice that really was.

“That’s what I thought, anyway. Until Fenris showed up.” Anders turns to look at Fenris, still leaning in his spot against the tree. His expression is serious, as it has been throughout Anders’ story. “You’ve agreed to work with us against other vampires. You’ve fought by our sides, seen us bleed and never once lost control or made any move against us. It goes against everything I thought I’d learned.”

Fenris nods like he’s heard enough and at last, he speaks, “Before I start, you should know that if what you seek is some sort of scientific method of how a vampire might exist safely with mortals, it does not exist and is certainly not something I can teach. I can only tell you what I know based on my own experience. And I fear it may not be as much as you hope.”

“That’s fair,” says Anders. “I can’t ask you for anything more than that.”

“The method by which I became what I am is not typical. My transformation took place at the same time as the ritual which gave me these markings. I spoke to Hawke a little of this. I don’t know what she might have passed on to you.”

“Not my story to tell,” says Marian and Fenris gives her a short appreciative glance at that.

“Then I will tell you myself. I have no memory of the time before the ritual. All that came before was taken by it. For ten years, all that came after was this: I was a slave. As such, I did only what I was ordered to do. I fed when my master told me to feed, killed when he told me to kill. I was not subject to the whims of any demon living within me because those of my master were the only ones that mattered. If I deviated from that, I was punished. I learned very quickly not to deviate. You can probably see how control was something I had no choice but to learn.”

The way he looks at them is a challenge, daring them to pity him. Garrett had had his suspicions about Fenris but to hear them confirmed is something else. He is horrified and he has many questions but realises that Fenris will not welcome them and chooses instead to keep them to himself. He looks to the others to see that Marian is unsurprised but her eyes are lit with fury on Fenris’ behalf. Turning then to Anders, he sees a flash of something similar. “That’s just…” Anders shakes his head, an angry frown marking his features. “No one should have to live like that.”

Fenris chooses not to respond to that. Instead, he says, “If you have questions, ask them.”

Garrett doesn’t think he can be referring to the questions he has. _‘How did you get away?’_ the first among them.

Anders is more practical, remembering that they’re here for a reason. “You spoke of a demon. It’s still part of you?”

“The only way to separate it from me would involve killing me.”

Anders nods, “I knew that. But still, I wondered… So then, it’s simply a matter of will power? Of controlling the demon?”

“Something like that,” says Fenris. His expression gives little away but there is the impression of something uncomfortable in his manner. He does not like speaking about this. Still, he explains, “I give it what it needs. No more, no less.”

“But there must be something more to it than that. Karl said it was like trying not to drown. There was no bargaining his way out of it. All he could do was fight to keep from going under. Until he couldn’t any longer.”

Fenris levels his gaze at Anders and tells him, “He wanted to feed on you. Had he done so, he might have found the strength to make the demon recede.” Fenris shrugs. “Or it might have taken over completely. We may never know.” Fenris pauses for a moment, narrowing his eyes at Anders as though trying to figure something out. Then he clearly gives up. “I wonder how this manages to confound you. You ask me about the nature of demons as if you have no more knowledge on the subject than any other mage. Clearly that’s not true.”

Anders’ eyes go wide. “I - what?” he splutters. 

Fenris looks at him with impatience. “I speak of possession. You know something of it. Or would you have me believe that a single mage specialised in healing magic might fight off a house full of vampires and come out of it untouched without demonic help? If I’m to assist you with this problem, do me at least the courtesy of being forthright.”

Anders bristles. “I didn’t turn to a demon for the power to rescue Karl, if that’s what you’re thinking! You think if I’d let rage or pride or something into my head, I’d be sitting here talking to you like this?”

Fenris doesn’t back down. “If not rage, then what?”

This conversation has taken a turn that Garrett could never have predicted. Though maybe he should have, after how Fenris had reacted to Anders last time they met. Apparently the guy really doesn't like mages. The story about Anders single handedly killing all those vampires does seem a bit odd now that Garrett thinks about it but accusing Anders of being possessed is going a little bit far.

Or it certainly seems to be, until Anders raises his chin and answers, “A spirit of Justice. And it didn’t happen the way you’re thinking. I met Justice while I was in Amaranthine with the Wardens. He was trapped outside the Fade in the body of a dead Warden. We were friends. For months before we decided to merge.”

Garrett has made a very good effort so far of not butting into the conversation Anders and Fenris have been having. But at this point he can’t quite manage to keep it up anymore. “I’m sorry, _what?_ ” Anders winces but Garrett can’t stop himself from asking, “You’re possessed?”

“I… yes,” Anders sighs.

Garrett turns to Marian. “Did you know about this?”

And Marian just shrugs. “We all knew. Didn’t really know how to bring it up, though. I mean, ‘This is Anders. Nice guy but watch out for that spirit of Justice that comes out when he gets mad’? Not a great introduction.”

Anders scowls at her. “Yes, thank you for that,” he snaps.

“I mean, it’s fine. It hasn’t really been an issue,” she adds with another shrug.

Anders turns back to him, smoothing the annoyance off his face as he explains, “I would have told you about it eventually. But as Hawke so eloquently explained, it’s not something I’m comfortable just dropping at random.”

Garrett thinks about that.

“Okay,” he says.

Anders’ brow furrows. “Okay? That’s it?”

“Yeah, I’m just going to let that sit for a while. No. Wait a minute. You were friends with a possessed corpse back in Amaranthine?” He stops for a moment, thinking. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“You said you spent time with the Hero of Ferelden?”

“Oh. Yeah! Justice… shit.” Garrett pauses again to let the stories Warden Commander Aeducan had told him line up with what Anders has just said. “You know, she had nothing but good things to say about him. Hero of Ferelden approved. That’s a pretty good endorsement.”

“I mean, you say that but I think Sereda’s philosophy tends to be ‘as long as you’re not completely evil, we’re good’, which always leaves room for ‘possibly just a little bit evil’ or some good old fashioned ‘they’re just misunderstood’... Though I guess that’s not exactly helping my case.”

“At the very least, it seems she would fit in well with this group,” says Fenris dryly.

“You know, this truly is a fascinating insight to the saviour of our homeland,” says Marian, “but could we get back to the subject at hand so that we can go home before I freeze my tits off?”

They turn to look at Marian, who’s still sitting on the ground, looking more bored than anything else with the direction the conversation has turned. Garrett is about to make a sarcastic comment about her decision to sit out on a cold autumn night in nothing but a tank top and jeans (he knows she only does it because she thinks it makes her look cool), when Fenris steps away from the tree he’s leaning against and begins to shrug off his own jacket. They all stare but it’s probably Marian who stares the hardest. 

“What are you doing?” she asks him sharply.

“Offering you something warmer to wear.” He steps forward again and holds the jacket out to her. “Since you seem to need it.”

Marian looks at the jacket, then back at Fenris, as though he were offering her a poisonous snake and not an extra layer of clothing. “Please stop being ridiculous and put that back on.”

Fenris raises an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware that offering a jacket to someone who feels the cold more than I do is considered ridiculous. But if you’d rather not...”

Looking somewhere between alarmed and furious, Marian just stares at him. Fenris shrugs slightly and is clearly about to take back his offer when she finally thrusts out her hand. She takes the jacket from him and drapes it over her bare shoulders, glaring moodily at Fenris the entire time. Fenris shakes his head. There is a just barely perceptible trace of amusement about his lips before he turns to take the few steps back to his spot by the tree. 

Garrett is left staring, wondering what in the name of Andraste he just witnessed. He turns to Anders to see if he’s sharing any of Garrett’s confusion but, no. That’s not confusion. Anders’ lips are spread into a thin line and if Garrett hadn’t believed Bethany before about his ‘thing’ for Marian, well, he certainly does now because that’s jealousy if he ever saw it. 

Garrett sighs.

“So, where were we?” he asks, sounding tired even to his own ears. 

“Demonic possession,” says Fenris.

“Versus spirit possession, right…”

“It’s not the same,” Anders insists, not managing to look much less annoyed. “Justice and I share a common goal. I can’t say we’ve never had any problems but for the most part we work together. We’re on the same side. That’s nothing like what Karl described. What you’ve described.” 

There’s another moment of silence before Marian asks, “Have you met others like you? Who were in control of the demon inside them? Because the vampires I’ve come across in my line of work don’t often seem to be thinking of much beyond their next meal.”

“It is difficult to say. In those cases it’s clear that the demon has taken over entirely, leaving them little more than blood starved beasts. In Tevinter, the vampires Danarius surrounded himself with showed a little more restraint but they were still very much driven by greed. They were none of them good people, but to pinpoint how much of that was demonic corruption would be impossible.”

“Karl was - _is_ \- a good man,” insists Anders. “Couldn’t it be possible that he did fight it?”

“There is one other thing,” says Fenris with some noticeable hesitation. Anders frowns as he listens. “The markings forced on me by Danarius. I’ve already told you that they are lyrium. They provide me with a connection to the fade. I cannot know for certain but I suspect this plays some part in my ability to keep the Demon at bay.”

“Karl’s a mage, though, right?” says Garrett. “Wouldn’t he have a strong enough connection to the fade too?” He looks from Fenris to Anders who does not look as reassured by this as Garrett would have hoped.

“I don’t know,” he sighs. His eyebrows draw together and there’s something slightly defeated in his voice as he goes on. “A mage may have an edge against that sort of corruption but that’s because we’re used to demons. We train to resist them but that doesn’t mean it’s fool proof. If just being a mage made retaining control easy enough to sustain for any length of time then wouldn’t it be more widely known? I’ve never heard of such a thing being the case before.”

“There is little else I can tell you that may be of use,” says Fenris and Garrett thinks he can see a trace of regret in his expression. “There may be nothing I can do to help you or Karl.”

“It… It’s certainly starting to seem that way.” Anders’s voice is soft, defeated. Garrett hates the way it makes him sound. “I wouldn’t even know how to begin looking for him anyway. I’m sorry… I feel as though I’ve made you all sit through this for nothing. I should never have let myself hope.”

Garrett is the first to jump to reassure him. “Hey, don’t worry about that. No one can blame you for wanting answers. And as for hoping, you’re only human - or, well, sort of.” He offers Anders a crooked grin.

Anders manages a weak smile in response. “Oh, great. This is going to be a thing now, isn’t it? All I needed was for another Hawke sibling to find out about Justice and make a joke out of it. You all have such a wonderful sense of humour.”

“Please don’t imply that I share Garrett’s sense of humour,” Marian groans. 

“I’ll second that,” agrees Garrett, “but only because we’re not all as mean as Marian.”

“True,” says Anders with a small smirk. “Bethany is lovely.”

Garrett barks a laugh. “I think you’ll find I can be quite lovely myself. You clearly just need to get to know me better.”

And with that it becomes quite clear that Anders may be possessed, in love with Garrett’s twin sister and, at the same time, still hung up on his vampire ex, but none of that is quite enough to make Garrett feel any less inclined to flirt with him. He should probably work on that if he doesn’t want to get in trouble with Bethany.

But Anders just gives him another small smile. “Hmm,” he answers, his voice softening, “maybe I do.”

Damn.

There’s no way this can end badly, is there?

Before Garrett can say anything else, Anders turns to the others and says, “Thank you for this. I really appreciate that you took the time to talk to me. I… I know I haven’t really given you much of a reason to want to do that.”

Fenris just nods. Marian gets to her feet. “It’s fine, Anders.” She pauses then adds, “Sorry it didn’t work out the way you were hoping.”

“Well, at least I’ve had plenty of time to get used to disappointment,” he replies with a wry, not quite there smile. 

Marian claps him on the shoulder sympathetically. Then she bends and picks her jacket up off the floor. She glances at Fenris then and slips the one he lent her off her shoulders before wordlessly handing it back to him. He takes it, also without saying anything. Their eyes meet for only a moment before Marian turns away. “Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

When they get back to the house, Marian says good night and heads straight up to her room. Before Anders can do the same, Garrett stops him. “Come with me?” he says before leading him through to the kitchen. He gestures to Anders to take a seat then heads to one of the cupboards and rooting through until he finds a bottle of spiced rum that he’d spied there the other day. He pulls it out, saying, “I suspect this belongs to Isabela but I can get her another one. What do you say?”

Anders eyes the bottle doubtfully for a moment then shrugs. “Why not?” Garrett grins and goes to pull out two glasses. As he pours one and pushes it across the table, Anders says, “You know, Justice usually doesn’t let me get drunk. Maybe he’ll make an exception given that he feels just as lousy about this as I do.”

Garrett eyes him curiously and tentatively asks, “Does he - Justice - does he share your feelings for Karl?”

He doesn’t know if that sort of thing is okay to ask a spirit possessed person. But it’s really difficult not to wonder. How does one go about pursuing a romantic relationship while sharing their body with another being? 

Anders stares into his glass as he answers, “It’s not really like that. Karl and I were together before Justice and I ever met. But Justice can remember what it was like when we were together. And finding Karl was one of the things we talked about before we merged. He wanted to help me and it was just as much his decision to break Karl out of the Gallows as it was mine. He feels just as responsible that it went wrong. Anders takes a gulp of his drink and scowls at the memory. “We should have been more careful.” 

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it must have been like,” says Garrett softly. “I mean, I’ve lost people - you know that - but this is… knowing that he’s still out there like that. I can’t blame you for hoping you were wrong to give up on him.”

Anders takes another drink and rubs his forehead with his fingertips. He mutters, “I don’t know if I can agree with you there.”

“In that case you should probably go a bit easier on yourself. It seems like a perfectly natural reaction to me.”

Anders shakes his head. “Maybe… but can I afford to be wrong? There are so many other things I should be focusing on. The clinic, the mages, and yet here I am, worrying about something I thought I’d put behind me years ago. Fenris made a pretty good case for it all being hopeless and yet I still… I don’t know. How can I know unless I see him with my own eyes?”

Garrett looks at him for a long moment, takes in the furrow between his eyebrows, the unhappy turn of his lips and the tense way his long fingers grip his glass. He takes a sip of his own drink while he thinks it over, then sets his glass down and says, “Okay. So what do you want to do?”

Anders looks at him. “I… what do you mean?”

“I mean that, if you ask me, you have a very good reason for not being able to forget about this. If you want to look for him, I’ll help you.”

Anders stares. “You’d do that?”

Garrett grins at him. “Sure. We’re friends, right? And it’s not like I have a lot going on right now.”

Anders continues to stare at him bewildered before eventually coming out with, “What about Justice?” 

“What about him?”

“Usually people don’t react so well to finding out about him. Not that I’m in the habit of telling people. But still…”

Garrett just shrugs. “I don’t know. You seem alright to me. Besides, at least it explains the whole sexy tortured look.”

Anders’ eyes widen just a little and Garrett immediately winces. Fucking void. When is he ever going to learn to stop talking at the appropriate time to stop talking? He gulps his drink. Then he says, “You know, I just heard how that sounded and I can only apologise. Now I know why Marian’s always telling people not to listen when I talk.”

But Anders laughs, his cheeks slightly pink, in a way that Garrett tries not to find adorable. “I, er - no, I really don’t know what to say to that.”

“You’re looking decidedly less tortured though, so at least there’s that?”

Anders laughs again. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

Garrett grins back at him, then ducks his head, chuckling softly. “Nope. It really seems I can’t.”

Anders lets out another soft huff of laughter but it isn’t long before a pained look crosses his face. “But this… I mean, you know I can’t…”

And though Anders is quite clearly struggling to find the words, Garrett knows what this is: the inevitable rejection. Oh, well. At least he’d braced himself for it. Sort of. It still sort of stings though. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I get it. I really do. But believe me, when I say I can’t help it, I really mean that. It just comes out. Like word vomit. But in the form of really inappropriate flirting. You might just have to learn to live with it,” he jokes. Then he winces again as he realises that he’s probably not helping the situation. “Or, you know, just tell me to fuck off. I suppose there’s always that.”

Anders’ lips twist into a small half smile. “Is it okay if I don’t? Tell you to fuck off, that is?”

“More than okay,” Garrett answers, his own smile returning in earnest. 

“Good. I know we haven’t known each other long but you’ve already been a good friend. I wouldn’t want to throw that away.”

“I am very glad to hear that,” says Garrett. And he means it. He really does. Because Bethany was right and even if Anders liked him like that, trying to start something with him now would be far too messy. And, Maker, Bethany hadn’t even known the half of it, he’s sure. It’s definitely better this way.

“Do you think I should do it?” says Anders after a moment. “Try to find Karl?”

“That’s completely your call, Anders. I know I don’t have to explain the risks to you. All I can say is that if it’s what you want, I’ll back you up.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

Garrett thinks about it for a moment. “Maybe Varric would know. Not where he is, but how to look. Seems like he’s well connected so maybe he knows someone who knows the vampires around here.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” says Anders, beginning to look encouraged by the thought. “And we could just look for him. It’s not like I have to decide if I want to approach him now. I could just try to find out if he’s okay. I mean, that’s all I really need to know, right?”

“Of course, if that’s how you feel,” Garrett agrees. “We can go and talk to Varric tomorrow.”

Anders nods slowly, “Yeah… okay. Garrett, thank you. You really don’t have to do so much.”

Garrett smiles. “Hey, it’s fine. I want to help.”

“I know your sister would never admit it, but I sort of get the impression that sticking your neck out for people you barely know is a Hawke family trait.”

“I mean, yeah,” Garrett laughs. “Really awkward wording given the Fenris situation but yeah, that’s us in a nutshell.”

Anders looks confused for a moment before piecing together Garrett’s meaning. Then it turns out that there is a limit to how inappropriate Garrett can be before Anders stops finding it charming. Because at that he looks somewhere between repulsed and annoyed. “Thank you for that image,” he says, sounding slightly strained. “Did you have to go there?”

“I honestly wish I hadn’t,” says Garrett with an awkward laugh. “I don’t really want to think about that either.”

“Word vomit again?” Anders looks reluctantly amused. 

“You catch on quick.” Garrett flashes what he knows to be his most charming smile in the hopes that it will convince Anders to forgive him.

It seems to do the trick because he lets out a small laugh like he can’t quite help himself. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

The compliment sends a jolt of pleasure through Garrett that is utterly unfair and Anders knows it, if the sly look on his face is anything to go by. 

“Oh, you fight dirty,” Garrett laughs.

Anders looks half amused, half repentant. “Sorry, I suppose that’s not something I should be saying after, well, you know…” After effectively turning him down earlier. Yeah, Garrett got that.

He smirks back at Anders anyway, “Hey, I’m not complaining. By all means, keep going.”

But Anders just lets out another of those soft laughs and looks down at his nearly empty glass. His eyes are doing that crinkling up at the corners thing again. And, fuck, there really is an attraction here and not just on Garrett’s end. Why, he wonders, does it have to go like that when Anders’ heart is so clearly preoccupied elsewhere? It’s far too unfair.

Anders finishes his drink and says, “I should probably get to bed. Got to be up for the clinic tomorrow.” Garrett nods and Anders goes on, “Thank you again. Not just for offering to help but for not letting me go off to sulk alone earlier. I think I really needed this. To talk to someone.”

“Of course,” says Garrett. “Anyone would.”

“Well, good night.” Anders gets up and when Garrett repeats the words back to him, he smiles and heads out of the kitchen. 

Garrett finishes his own drink then also gets up. Bed sounds like a great idea. He needs to go there and… not think about Anders. Because he needs to not become any more of a besotted idiot than he already is, Maker help him.

Seriously. _Maker help him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only checked over this chapter once before posting so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes that I've missed. I think I'm going to go a bit more slowly with updating this for a while. When I started I thought weekly updates were going to be easy to keep up with but I didn't really take into account how anxious posting my work online makes me. I think I need a bit of a break. Hopefully it won't take too long to get back to it. For now, thank you all for reading, commenting, leaving kudos. It always means a lot to me to hear from you ❤


	14. History

They agree to meet at The Hanged Man after Anders finishes work. So, after managing to close the clinic reasonably early, that’s where Anders heads. Garrett isn’t there when he arrives but he does see a familiar face waving to him from a table in the corner. 

“Are you just always here or something?” he asks Isabela as he approaches her table. “I’m quite certain that every time I come here you’re about somewhere. Do you ever leave?”

Anders takes a seat and Isabela gives him an amused look. “You say that like you come here a lot. But perhaps you’d have a better idea if you got out of that hole in Darktown more often. I almost thought I was hallucinating when I saw you walk through that door a moment ago.”

Anders smiles a little, “Maybe we’re both creatures of habit.”

“If that’s what you want to call it. Tell me then, what brings you out of the undercity? Shouldn’t you be off being all noble and self-sacrificing, helping the poor and downtrodden and all that?”

He shakes his head at that, still smiling slightly. Isabela makes fun of his willingness to work for nothing in return but he’s pretty sure the sarcasm is all bluster. The people who come to him are desperate. Anders could never ask payment from people who already have so little. Whatever Isabela says, he knows she must understand that. In any case, she’s certainly never complained about him healing her for free.   
  
He doesn’t say any of this of course, just answers lightly, “I’m meeting Garrett here.”

Isabela lifts one dark eyebrow. “Oh?” 

“What? Not ‘oh’! Why are you saying it like that?”

Isabela smirks. “It’s just that a little birdie told me the two of you have been hitting it off rather well.”

Anders feels his face heat up. “Wha- who told you that?”

He wants to call it ridiculous but he can’t. Because they sort of have. As much as he wants to deny it, he and Garrett get along really well. But there’s nothing more to it than that. Apart from a bit of flirting. Harmless really. It doesn’t have to mean anything. 

“What fun would it be if I revealed my sources?” says Isabela.

Anders figures Isabela’s sources could only be Merrill, or Bethany. Unless…

“Garrett didn’t say anything to you about me, did he?”

Big mistake. A slow grin spreads over Isabela’s face and he wishes he could take the words back where they can’t be twisted into something beyond simple curiosity. “Never mind. Forget I said anything. If you have to know, he’s helping me out with something. And we might need Varric’s help with that so we’re meeting here.”

The knowing look that remains on Isabela’s face bothers him more than it should. It’s bad enough that Hawke’s twin is funny and cute and nice without other people starting to notice that he thinks that. He just has too many other things to think about without allowing that to distract him too. 

“Well, that’s awfully nice of him, isn’t it?” purrs Isabela. 

Anders doesn’t answer, knowing anything he says will probably be used against him.

A long moment passes where he can feel Isabela’s overly smug gaze on him until she looks up and says, “Oh look, here he is now. And he’s brought my date with him. Such a giver, that Garrett Hawke.”

Anders glances back towards the doorway to see Garrett with Merrill looking especially tiny next to him. He makes a point of focusing on Isabela’s words and comments, “I thought you didn’t do dating.”

“Figure of speech,” she answers smoothly.

Anders turns back to her, enjoying the feeling of being able to send that knowing look back at her this time, “Sure it is.”

She meets his gaze with a challenging one of her own but nothing more is said before Garrett and Merrill arrive at the table.

“Sorry we’re late,” says Garrett brightly.

Merrill, looking more apologetic, adds, “It’s my fault. I said that since we were going to the same place we should go together but then I couldn’t for the life of me remember where I’d left my keys and I wasn’t sure if we’d be coming back at the same time so I ended up looking everywhere. But no luck. I really don’t know what I could have done with them.”

“I figure I’ll just lend her my set. We can head back together, right? Unless you have other plans?” Garrett looks at Anders hopefully and Anders shakes his head to the second question. He’s been spending a lot of time at the house lately, he realises. Most of it has just been spent sleeping but it’s unusual all the same even just to go two nights without working late at the clinic. His manifesto has been somewhat neglected lately in favour of writing letters on behalf of various mage resistance groups to anyone of influence that might be able to help block any efforts to bring back the Rite of Tranquility. Anders feels a lingering sense of guilt at choosing to tend to personal matters when this is looming over them. But Selby and the others are on it too, he reminds himself, reminds Justice. And it’s not as if he’s ignoring the matter. Hawke, too, has her appointment to see the Viscount in a few days.

Anders feels a weight on his shoulder. Literally. It’s Garrett’s hand giving him a comforting squeeze. Anders has to keep himself from leaning into the touch. It’s been a long time since Anders has received much in the way of physical affection and he has to admit, it’s kind of nice how tactile Garrett can be. As he looks up, Garrett smiles at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah… just thinking.”

“Nervous?”

“Uh, a little, I suppose.” And that’s only because Anders is currently refusing to think past the point of what he’ll say to Varric. He knows he should be preparing himself for the worst case scenario. But honestly? He can’t. He can’t quite bear to think about it.

“Let’s go talk to Varric. Maybe it’ll be better once we start actually making a plan.”

Anders gives him a weak smile. “I don’t know about better. But yeah. Probably best not to draw it out.”

Garrett gives his shoulder another squeeze before letting go. Isabela gives them a curious look but Anders can’t really bring himself to explain. “We’ll come and say bye to you before we leave,” he tells her instead.

“Alright then. Good luck with… whatever it is.”

Anders gives her a slightly half-hearted thanks and gets up to go.

Varric isn’t sure what he can do for them. He has people working for him whose job it is to find other people, certainly, but for one vampire who could be anywhere in Thedas by now? It’s a long shot. Still, Varric tells them he’ll see what he can do. “Since it’s you, Blondie.”

Varric is too good to him. They all are. Hawke and now Garrett… He hates that he has so little to give back to them. 

Then Varric asks if there is a photo he could use to aid with the search and Anders is hit by another wave of hopelessness. He doesn’t even have that. He doesn’t think he has ever had a physical photograph of Karl. It had always seemed too obvious. Too much of a risk. Now he remembers the lengths he and Karl used to go to to keep the templars from using their relationship against them and feels like a fool. What good had all that done them in the end?

But Varric opens a web browser on his laptop and types a name into the search bar. _Karl Thekla_. And then there are pictures. Not a lot. None from recent years certainly. But they’re there. 

Anders hasn’t seen Karl’s face in five years. He’s never thought to do this. He doesn’t use social media and even in the days when he could afford to have a phone or a computer he’d never bothered with it. He was too used to being a runaway to think plastering his face over the internet a good idea.

But now there he is. Karl. It’s so strange to see. How it’s been so long since he last saw that smile, one he used to see every day. The one he wears in the pictures is a little different than Anders remembers it. And it hurts because what he wouldn’t give to see the one in his memory. The smile he wears here is polite, reserved. It’s the face he wore for the Circle, one that barely hinted at the man he was underneath. They’d been through so much together but Anders still remembers him for his kindness. For his firm belief that they were so much more than the Circle wanted them to believe they were. He had been the first person Anders ever met who’d agreed with him on that. And it had meant everything to him.

There’s a photo of Anders there too. He nearly chokes on the words but he still can’t stop himself from asking Varric to bring it up. He looks so much younger there, in his early twenties with his hair pulled up into a neat ponytail, a shiny gold earring in his ear. And Karl next to him. They’re at some Circle function. He can remember the night. He was newly qualified as a Circle healer and about as happy as he was ever likely to be back then. Because despite the limitations forced on him, he’d had a purpose and he’d had someone he loved who loved him back and it would still be a year then before he’d antagonised the templars enough for them to decide to take Karl away from him. 

The Karl and Anders in the photo are smiling. They aren’t the only ones there. There are two other Circle mages on Karl’s left. Anders is on his right, a hand placed lightly on his lover’s arm and it’s clearly no casual gesture. Or maybe it’s just clear to Anders, who knows so well what it really meant. Must have been tipsy, forgetting the rules. Or maybe he just hadn’t cared. They’d tried not to flaunt their relationship but people knew about it, even the templars. They’d allowed it as long as it stopped them from acting out. Stopped Anders from acting out. 

Suddenly the room doesn’t feel so steady around him anymore. Or, no, it’s his legs that don’t feel steady and his head that feels heavy and unbalanced with the rush of blood growing louder in his ears. A moment later, Garrett has guided him into a chair and he’s hunched over with his head in his hands. The feeling recedes, leaving him feeling sick and a little bit dizzy. He can feel Garrett’s hand on his back rubbing circles through his jacket. Soothing. But somehow nearly too much at the same time. He can’t believe he’s letting Garrett see him like this. Asking him to help over something like this when they’ve only known each other a few weeks. 

“Sorry,” he mutters but the sound is barely there. He tries again. “Sorry.” 

Not much better but Garrett says, “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

It’s not okay. Still, Anders tries to focus on the soothing contact on his back. He can’t break down here in Varric’s office over a fucking photograph. He can’t. 

Eventually, he manages to steel himself enough to sit up and Garrett’s hand falls from his back. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs once more. 

“Okay, Blondie, I think you’ve apologised enough. Clearly this shit is a sensitive issue. No one’s going to hold it against you if you get a little upset.” Varric is looking at him sympathetically. The laptop on the table beside him is shut, hiding the photograph of Karl.

“I shouldn’t be dragging you into this,” Anders says. “It’s my problem.” It’s… it’s his fault.

Oh Anders knows that it’s not as simple as that, that the Circles are wrong, that the Templars should never have been allowed to do what they did. But behind all that is the knowledge that it was a series of decisions made by Anders that led him to where he is now. And it is simply too difficult to shake off the voice in Anders’ head that insists that it’s Anders’ fault Karl ended up in Kirkwall. Anders’ fault he was arrested. Anders’ fault he was captured by vampires. All of it, Anders’ fault and even the part of him that hates templars can’t drown that out. Even Justice doesn’t always have the power to chase those thoughts away. 

It’s just been a while since the feeling has come over him so powerfully. 

“This was a bad idea,” he says. 

He can feel Garrett crouched beside him but all this time Anders hasn’t been able to look at him once. He just feels ashamed.

“It’s fine,” says Garrett. “You don’t have to do anything. If you want to stop, we can stop. If you want to take some time and come back when you feel ready, do that. You want to keep going? I’m right here with you. Unless, you know, you don’t want me to be.”

Anders lifts his gaze towards Garrett at last. Earnest warm brown eyes peer steadily back at him. Anders doesn’t know what to say. Garrett’s support has come so suddenly out of nowhere that he doesn’t know what to do with it. He certainly doesn’t feel like he deserves it. But it’s there and though he doesn’t understand how, it feels real.

So there’s really only one thing he can say, “Thank you.”

Garrett grins back at him. 

“Shit,” says Varric. “I feel like I should be writing this down. Chuckles, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Garrett rolls his eyes but there’s a hint of amusement in his features. “Thanks Varric. I’m sure that’s exactly the sort of sentiment we need right now.”

Like Garrett is in any way an authority on appropriate conversation topics.

Varric holds a hand up. “Alright, I get it.” He looks back at Anders. “You hanging in there okay?” 

The brief lighthearted banter has brought an air of normalcy back to the room and Anders nods. It might not be by much but it’s something. 

Garrett gives him an encouraging smile. “That’s good… I’m thinking it might be an idea to call it a night. I’ll call Bethany and see if she can pick us up.”

“Bethany?” Anders questions.

“Yeah. I mean, unless you’re up to walking. I’d suggest the bus but somehow I think that might be worse.” 

He’s right. The thought of facing public transport right now is not an appealing one. Garrett seems able to read that simply from the look on his face because he says, as if that settles it, “I’ll call Beth.”

Bethany arrives at the pub around fifteen minutes later. They keep to Varric’s office as they wait. Anders can’t quite face the busy bar out front. He still feels lousy. Frustrated with himself for not doing more but still somehow drained from the shock of seeing that photo earlier. Garrett heads out for a few minutes to give his house keys to Merrill and presumably to say good night on behalf of both of them. 

When Bethany sees them, it’s obvious she can tell something’s wrong, though Garrett hadn’t said as much on the phone. She doesn’t say anything though. Just frowns a little as they get into the car. Then Garrett’s chatter fills the silence and Anders is grateful when Bethany joins in, letting their talk distract him from his troubled thoughts. 

A short drive later, they each step out of the car and Bethany comes around to where Anders is standing and pulls him into a hug. She’s tall, like the rest of her family but a little shorter than her sister, less muscular too. She feels small to Anders as he stoops slightly to wrap his arms around her, but warm. The lavender scent of her shampoo is familiar and calming. It’s nice. Maybe he should hug Beth more often.

“You want to talk about it?” she murmurs and Anders shakes his head. He probably should at some point. Not now though. He can’t bring himself to go over it again. She pulls back to look at him. “Hmm… hot chocolate then?”

Anders manages a small smile. “Sure.” 

Bethany lets go of him and he looks up to see Garrett watching, his posture a little awkward as he hovers around the other side of the car. When he catches Anders looking, his concerned frown smoothes into another one of those gentle smiles. 

Before they’d left, Varric had assured them that he’d do his best to search for any sign of Karl. So there seems to be little left to do but wait. Anders spends the rest of the evening with Garrett and Bethany and if he’s quieter than usual that night, neither of them mention it. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve the kindness the Hawke family have shown him. Even the times he’s healed them feels like a small thing in comparison to the home they’ve provided for him. It’s too much, he thinks, not for the first time. But the company is such a welcome distraction that he forces the thought from his mind and tries to focus instead on the sounds from the TV, interrupted occasionally by Garrett and Bethany’s chatter. And he waits.


	15. Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This feels like a bit of an odd chapter. It's more like an interlude or a short bonus than a full chapter. I wasn't sure whether to include it or not but when I looked at my plan I realised that there really isn't a lot of Fenris in this arc of the story. So this is for anyone who might be missing him, since it'll be another four chapters since we see his point of view again (he will be in another chapter before then but it's another Marian POV). It's just a bit of reflection on his time in Kirkwall and his relationship with Hawke and the others. I hope it works with the rest of the story!
> 
> One other thing, I forgot to say last time that I recently moved blogs over on tumblr. If anyone is interested in following me there, you can now find me at [pinkfadespirit](https://pinkfadespirit.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Thank you all for reading!

Fenris has never lived like this before. 

He spent years on the run, never staying in one place more than a few days. Longer than that as Danarius’ pet. And before that... nothing. There have been times when he’s tried to remember what his life might have been before Danarius made him what he is but nothing substantial has ever come from it. Nothing he could ever hold onto. 

Perhaps it’s better that way. Whatever life he might have had before is over now. It’s not him anymore. So what use can there be in trying to reclaim it?

Still the feeling - _the nothing_ \- it makes it difficult to know what he might be moving towards now that he is out of Danarius’ grasp. Running, at least, was _something_. 

Yet here he is, returning each morning to a mansion that had likely belonged to his former master and no longer making any real effort to hide himself. He wonders if perhaps when he found the hunters, they had not yet had a chance to report in before he killed them. Or could there be something else that is stopping Danarius from dispatching more?

Perhaps the weeks without having to concern himself with finding a secure place to take shelter each morning should have been relaxing but Fenris is still on edge.

Hawke has begun seeking him out most nights now. Every time he finds her outside his door he can’t help but feel… something. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, one he can’t quite wrap his mind around. It’s one he doesn’t think he should be allowing to take root the way it’s already started to. But everytime he sees her, it’s always about something new she wants his help to kill. And that helps, in some ways. She keeps her end of the bargain they made, sharing out her earnings with him, promising him that if there is any sign of more bounty hunters headed towards Kirkwall, he’ll be the first to know. They’ve become friendlier but surely that’s to be expected. 

Or is it? There are times when he’s with her that Fenris almost finds it easy to forget the differences between them, so caught up as he is in her easy acceptance of him. How when she asks something of him there is never any doubt that he could simply tell her ‘no’ and she would shrug her shoulders and accept it. It was difficult at first to believe. But he sees it now. It’s not that trust is unfamiliar. It’s possible he’d trusted Danarius once, in a way. It had been a desperate sort of feeling because he’d had nothing else. No one but Danarius and the demon that lived inside his head. Even then, he’d understood somehow that trusting the Demon was the wrong choice. Not that Danarius was much better. At least he’d had the opportunity to come back from that. Or become something new, as there was nothing to come back to.

What bothers him is how safe it feels with Hawke. Fenris feels like he should know better than that. Not because he expects her to betray him. He’s not sure what it is. Perhaps it’s simply too good to be true. Too good to last. 

Sometimes the difference between them is a tangible thing. He’ll see the fire in her eyes as she makes a kill and he knows that feeling. Like a reflection of his own deadly instincts. But then he’ll catch the scent of her blood in the air and have to hold his demon in check and it becomes more clear than anything that any sense of sameness is only an illusion. Wishful thinking. Maybe desperation again. After all, after everything he’s fought for, what does he even really have?

Part of him still wants to say Hawke. 

It is a foolish thought but the lingering nature of it scares him all the same.

Hawke’s friends had been wary of him to start. But now that weeks have passed working together most nights, it’s started to feel normal. Or, as close to it as it can be. They’ve talked about his ability to be close to mortals as something that sets him apart from others of his kind. But Fenris isn’t mortal, he can’t forget that. As easy as it is sometimes to joke with Isabela, or how Garrett has started to warm up to him since the first night when he’d made that poor first impression. There have been moments when he’s almost felt like one of them. But he isn’t and it’s not a thing he can allow himself to forget.

Fenris has managed to keep his opinions on magic to himself since the last time Hawke asked him about them. Or perhaps it would be more correct to say since his last conversation with Anders. Though he hadn’t quite intended to get into it, it had proved difficult not to when he realised what the man was. If Fenris’ opinion of magic had relaxed any in the time he’s known Hawke, it is unlikely to go any further than that. Not knowing that one of her mages made a deal with a demon and became an abomination by choice.

But Garrett, as he admitted to Hawke weeks ago, has made him question from time to time. Fenris has no intention of letting his guard down but he has to admit that there have been the odd occasions when he wonders if he might actually like the man. He’s like no one Fenris has ever known. Always smiling, quick to offer help or comfort to anyone who needs it. At first he hadn’t wanted to trust that. But Garrett, at least, is one person who has never asked anything from him. He seems genuinely to have a good heart. Fenris sees how the others respond to it too, how they’re drawn to him, and has to keep himself from doing the same. Hawke seems to be the only one immune to it. She has a different sort of love for him than the others. It’s quieter and not as reluctant as she tries to make it out to be. 

Fenris finds himself taking pleasure in noticing these things about her. 

He has to try not to let himself get too close. But when it comes to Hawke, it’s more of a challenge than it is with the others. He’s drawn to her in a way that’s different. It feels dangerous. And yet, being what he is, that thrills him all the more. 

He keeps noticing the scent of her blood. It’s not like that with the others. And yet with Hawke…

Fenris hunts most nights. Now that he seems to be staying in Kirkwall for the foreseeable future, he has adjusted his habits so as not to be so noticeable. He has made an effort to look into alternatives for those nights when he can’t hunt in the traditional manner. There are vampires or sometimes bold mortals who make a business from selling bagged blood. It’s far from a preferred food source for Fenris but sometimes it’s necessary. 

Still, for all the time he spends among mortals, he cannot truly live like one. Bagged blood is not always available and even if it were Fenris has no desire to drink the stuff any more than he has to. The fact is that he’s a killer and can afford to feel no doubt that his victims deserve whatever ends they meet at his hands. He keeps his hunting separate from his patrols with Hawke. He tries to find slavers or other evildoers and if he happens upon another vampire, he might make do with that. His own kind aren’t so appealing, much like the blood bags. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing has entirely managed to satisfy the hunger that has been stirred in him lately. 

It is a fight Fenris’ Demon will not win. It troubles him. But despite that, he returns to her each night all the same. 

He doesn’t stop because he doesn’t want to. Because, complicated though it is, he has a choice.

And that is _something_. 


	16. Once more to see you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from the [Mitski song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O9yfLGT_ozQ). I was listening to it and making myself sad again thinking about Anders and Karl in the Circle. It probably would have made a better title for chapter 14 but changing that now would still leave me needing a title for this chapter so we're not gonna do that. 
> 
> This chapter is where I start using 'It's magic!' as an explanation for how the characters manage certain things and just hoping it's not all too far-fetched. Let's go!

Anders doesn’t entirely know what to expect after asking Varric for help finding Karl. It was always going to be a long shot and he can’t even tell if he’s impatient for results or if this is just a good excuse to put off actually having to face the situation for a while longer. 

A fortnight passes quickly. The Mage’s Collective set up a fairly popular campaign against Meredith's recent threats regarding the Rite of Tranquility. Hawke’s meeting with Dumar goes about as well as expected. Meaning that while he claims to be sympathetic, he still manages to be completely unhelpful. Anders wonders if their time might have been better spent trying to figure out what exactly Meredith has over him that makes him so afraid to move against her. One potentially good thing is that Hawke seems to have gained an ally in the Viscount’s son Seamus, who hopes to talk his father around. In the limited time he’s not dedicated to that or to the clinic, Anders tries to focus on his manifesto.

In that time, there is no word from any of Varric’s contacts regarding Karl. Maybe it’s just now that he feels slightly more on top of those other things he finally feels able to give this matter the attention it deserves. Because it is important. He’s been lying to himself if he’s tried to pretend it isn’t.

He’s been back to his old habits lately. Staying too late at the clinic, sometimes not making it back at all. But there are only so many days in a week he can get away with doing this before somebody notices. After the third night in a row of sleeping in his clinic after staying up too late writing, Bethany stages an intervention. Or, at least, she insists he come home with her for dinner that night. Garrett’s cooking, she says, which is an appealing thought. Garrett’s a pretty good cook and Anders has gone too many days without a decent meal.

When they arrive back at the house, they find Hawke in the living room, watching television. Bethany joins her and while those two talk, Anders wanders off and finds Garrett in the kitchen. As he enters the room, Garrett looks up from what he’s doing and his face brightens. Anders hasn’t quite figured out the complexities of how that makes him feel just yet. It’s nice. There’s no question of that. But there also seems to be so much potential for disaster here. As much as he worries that he should keep away, it’s just so good to have another friend. He doesn’t come across many people so open and understanding as Garrett. It makes him difficult to resist.

“You’re here,” says Garrett. “I was wondering when you’d show up again.”

“I always do, eventually.” Anders shrugs. “It helps that Bethany said you were cooking tonight.”

“Damn,” Garrett grins. “So it wasn’t just for the pleasure of my company, then?”

“Well,” says Anders slowly, smiling a little and entirely unable to help himself. “I suppose there’s always that.”

And there’s that sparkle in Garrett’s eye that gets him every time. Is it wrong to encourage him like that? Anders struggles to decide. It just feels good… and it’s only a bit of fun, right? 

“But also, the food,” he adds, making Garrett laugh. And that feels pretty good too.

He wonders where this leaves Hawke. Perhaps nowhere. If he is truly beginning to move on from her then that’s not a bad thing. Maker knows he’s wanted to for long enough. But moving on from her and onto her twin brother? That’s not okay, right? Anders feels kind of bad for even thinking about it. He should tell Garrett to stop. Or just stop encouraging him.

But he doesn’t.

Maybe he really is terrible.

He doesn’t let himself think about where Karl fits into it. He can’t. Because while thinking about Hawke is mostly awkward, thinking about Karl is simply painful. 

Anders would wonder when exactly his life became such a ridiculous mess but he’s pretty sure it’s always been that way. Since he was twelve anyway, and his father decided to hand him over to the circle, rather than deal with having a mage for a son.

“How have you been?” Garrett asks, interrupting Anders’ thoughts. He’s standing on the other side of the kitchen island, paused in his task of chopping vegetables. 

“Uh, fine. Busy.”

Garrett nods slowly. “I haven’t seen you much since we paid that visit to Varric the other week. So I was just, you know... wondering...”

He was worried. Anders figures that’s not entirely surprising given the state he ended up in that night. He’s still not entirely past feeling embarrassed about it. 

“I’ve been trying not to think about it to be honest. And there’s been so much going on anyway.”

Garrett nods again but he doesn’t look entirely convinced by Anders’ attempt to brush off the subject.

“I don’t know what else I can do,” he confesses. “I just have to wait, right?”

“That’s one way to go about it, I guess,” says Garrett.

“What other way is there?” Anders takes a seat at one of the stools placed at the closest side of the Island and leans forward against the counter, his chin resting in his hand.

“I don’t know exactly. Just that we haven’t really looked into other solutions. Have you asked anyone else for ideas?”

Anders shakes his head. “It’s not that I have a problem with them knowing... but I’m not sure I like the idea of dragging more people into it.”

“I suppose I can understand that,” Garrett says hesitantly. “But maybe that’s the problem? By only asking Varric, you’re limiting yourself. What about Merrill?”

“Merrill?”

“She knows a lot of magic we don’t.”

“Yes,” Anders says, frowning. “Blood magic.”

“Dalish magic,” Garrett counters. “But, that too, I guess. It could be worth asking about.”

Anders’ frown deepens. He didn’t know Garrett felt that way about blood magic. “That’s not a thought I’m entirely comfortable with.”

“Well, it’s something to be wary of, definitely. But Merrill seems to know what she’s doing.”

“They always claim to know what they’re doing,” Anders sighs. “But maybe she’ll know something that doesn’t involve slicing herself open or consorting with demons. I suppose it couldn’t hurt to ask.”

“Not really sensing much enthusiasm there…” Garrett laughs a little awkwardly. “But we can work with that. Leave it to me.”

It’s not long before they hear the front door, signalling Merrill back from the studio. She finds them in the kitchen and starts making a pot of tea while telling them about her day. They listen as she tells them about a piece that she’s particularly excited about but once the story is finished Garrett raises an eyebrow and Anders sighs. “Go on.”

Merrill looks between them curiously. “Did I miss something?” 

“So, hypothetically,” begins Garrett, “If we needed to find someone who had been missing for five years and had very little - well, nothing really - to go on, where would you begin?”

Merrill blinks. “Have you tried asking Varric?”

“Yes,” says Anders. Then with a roll of his eyes he adds, “Hypothetically.”

She looks thoughtful. “Well, if you had some of their blood, it would be simple enough. But I suppose you don’t have that, do you?”

Anders isn’t even surprised that the first option she leaps to is blood magic. But at least the answer to that is easy.

“If we did, we wouldn’t be asking. Considering that to gain access to his blood, we’d need him to be here,” Anders mutters.

Either Merrill misses the sarcasm in his tone or she chooses to ignore it. “Yes, that’s what I was just thinking.”

“Well, I feel extremely dense right now,” says Garrett and Anders gives him a questioning look. “Because that’s not entirely true, is it? Karl was a Circle mage. In Kirkwall. We may not have access to his blood but the Circle will have. What are the chances his phylactery is still somewhere in the city?”

Anders stares and Garrett looks back at him like what he’s suggesting isn’t completely pointless. “I don’t think that really matters considering, as you said, the Templars would have it. It would be in one of the Circle buildings. Not somewhere any of us would want to set foot.”

“What if we could figure out a way to get to it, though?” says Garrett, far too eagerly. “It would be exactly what you need, Anders. It would lead you right to him.”

Anders shakes his head. It’s not that what Garrett’s saying isn’t true, it just seems wrong. “You were never in the Circle. You don’t know what it’s like to have them own a piece of you like that. Something the templars can use to control you, to hunt you down if you ever try to get away.”

Garrett looks torn. “I mean, you’re right. I don’t know but… that’s not really what it’s like anymore, right? I was under the impression that phylacteries were more of a formality these days. A pretty creepy one, but still, just a contract. At least that’s how my dad always made it sound.”

Anders’ reply is quiet but firm, “For most mages, maybe that’s true. They stay with the Circle because it's the only way to get by. It was different growing up there. I didn’t agree to sign my life away to the Circle, my father did that for me. My phylactery wasn't just a contract, it was the reason I couldn't get away. How they'd drag me back every time I tried to escape. So surely you can understand if I don't want to do the same thing to someone I care about.” 

Garrett stares, not seeming to know what to say. Gently, Merrill speaks up, “It’s not really the same though, is it? I mean, I could be wrong. I don’t really know what we’re talking about but it’s not as though  _ you’re _ a templar. That bit’s easy enough to see.”

The response seems terribly simplistic to Anders and there is a sarcastic retort on the tip of his tongue but he manages to hold it back. Merrill is only trying to help, he reminds himself. 

Garrett looks at him sadly. “I didn’t know that,” he says in a quiet voice. “I’m sorry. It makes sense that you’d be uncomfortable with the idea.” He pauses for a moment before adding tentatively, “Merrill is right though. It wouldn’t be the same if it was you. You could even destroy it once you’re done with it.”

Anders shakes his head. “You’re talking as though it’s even doable. For all we know the Templars could have rounded up those mages already and killed the ones that turned. We might be completely wasting our time.”

It's not the first time he's had that thought and, honestly, every day they don't hear from Varric just makes it seem more likely. 

“Can I ask why you need to find this person or would that be rude?” asks Merrill, appearing genuinely uncertain.

Anders hesitates. He's tired of recounting the story by now. It doesn't hurt any less the more he goes over it. But it doesn't seem fair to Merrill to ask her advice when refusing to explain even a little. So he says, “He was someone who was very important to me once. While we were in the circle. I just want to know if he's okay.” 

“Okay,” Merrill says slowly. “What did you mean about the mages being turned?” 

“He's a vampire now,” says Anders with no inflection in his tone. As though pretending it doesn't hurt might stop it from doing so. It doesn't really work.

Merrill looks confused for a moment then she just looks sad and like she doesn't know what to say.

Garrett takes pity on him then, perhaps encouraged by Anders’ admission, and explains gently, “Anders thought that since Fenris seems to be on our side it might be worth getting in touch with Karl again. I offered to help find him but he could be anywhere.”

“We asked Varric,” says Anders quietly, “but it's been two weeks and we've heard nothing. Vampires don’t make themselves easy to find. We could be going about it completely the wrong way.”

Merrill’s eyes are as wide as ever as she looks between the two of them. “So you decided to ask me? That's very nice of you. People don't tend to ask for my advice very often.”

“It was Garrett’s idea,” says Anders. She beams at Garrett and he grins back at her.

"Well... erm... I suppose a good start would be to look into whether the Kirkwall circle has the phylactery you need. If they think – uh Karl, was it? If Karl is dead then it's possible that they've destroyed his phylactery. But there'll be records won't there? With so many people, surely they have to keep track of this sort of thing. So if we just take a look at Karl's file we'll know if the phylactery is still there. That's a good place to start, don't you think?"

Anders hadn't truthfully expected Merrill to have a solution - or at least at the beginning of one, ready so soon. He's getting the impression that he's underestimated her. But while Anders is surprised Garrett is eager. "It’s certainly as good a place to start as any. Given that it actually is a plan, compared to what we had before which was, well, nothing.”

Anders isn't quite so convinced. “I mean, yes, but where do we even find information like that?”

Perhaps someone in the Underground can help, he starts to think. But then Merrill hops off her stool.

“I can do it now,” she says brightly. “I'll just get my laptop.”

“Wait, what? You mean they just keep that sort of thing available online?”

"Oh, well... not really. But I can still find it. Isabela taught me. I'm actually quite good at it."

Well, that makes perfect sense, doesn't it? Of course a Dalish elf knows more about computers than he does. Anders would be lost doing anything more than a web search but if Merrill can truly access classified information about the circle from their kitchen, clearly he's underestimated her.

Merrill hurries eagerly from the room to wherever she left her laptop, passing Hawke on the way. They exchange a brief greeting and then Hawke stops in the doorway and fixes Anders and Garrett with a glare. But as a glare tends to be her default expression, Anders isn't sure if he should take it personally.

“I thought you were making dinner,” she says to Garrett.

Garrett looks down at the food preparation he's abandoned at some point during their conversation, then back up at his sister. “Sorry, got distracted.”

Hawke’s gaze flicks between the two of them, eyes narrowed and looking distinctly unimpressed. Anders raises his eyebrows, wondering what exactly it is she’s thinking right now. But all she says is, “Well can you not? I do have to go out and patrol at some point tonight.”

Garrett gives a wide smile in response. “Of course, I'll get right back to it. You know, since you asked so nicely and all.”

Anders lets out a soft snort and almost regrets it when Hawks glare flicks back to him. She holds his gaze for only a moment before returning to Garrett. She lets out a short sigh and asks, “What do you need help or something?”

“Don't worry about it,'' says Garrett.

Suddenly Anders feels shamefully lazy watching Garrett work. “Are you sure? I don't mind chipping in a bit. I mean, Full disclosure, I'm a terrible cook. But I can follow instructions. Just about. You know, depending on who gives them.”

Garrett's smile warms up quite a bit as he looks back at Anders. “You don't have to. But if you want to lend a hand then sure.”

By the doorway, Hawke makes a disgusted sound. They both look at her in surprise but all she says is, “Just call me when it's ready,” and she heads back out of the room.

Anders doesn't want to jump to any conclusions. But he thinks that may have been more than Hawke’s usual level of disdain. His thoughts return to his earlier consideration that turning his attention so quickly from one Hawke twin to another probably isn't a great move. Whatever Hawke’s feelings about him may be, it still sort of makes him look like a dick. He should probably stop whatever this is. It would be better for everyone involved, seeing as it can’t actually go anywhere. But then he looks at Garrett, who shrugs and keeps on grinning, and Anders doesn't quite manage the resolve.

Merrill comes back and sets up her laptop at the kitchen table. She gets to work on that while the other two finally get dinner underway. She takes to the project with an amount of focus Anders hadn't expected from her, putting it aside only to eat with the rest of them when dinner is finally done.

Afterwards, Hawke heads out to meet Isabela and Fenris for patrol while Bethany excuses herself to read in the library. Merrill goes back to work at her laptop. Anders forces himself to be busy, opting to do the washing up while he waits for Merrill. They'd had a dishwasher once but it had washed its last dish sometime not long after Anders had moved in. They'd never been able to afford to replace it so now they take turns washing up by hand, depending on who cooked that night. Anders figures he’s probably missed his turn several times over simply by being away so often. But the task does little to take his mind off his thoughts, something Garrett clearly picks up on. 

“You seem nervous,'' he says, grabbing a tea towel and starting to dry off the plates Anders has just washed.

Anders hums. It figures that it's obvious. He's been quiet through dinner though he only realises now that that must seem unusual to the others. It's just he's been thinking about Merrill’s goal and now Garrett bringing up the topic of phylacteries has made him realise a likelihood he hadn't considered before: Karl had been locked up in the gallows before Anders had broken him out. The Templars would have had his phylactery and they would have used it to find him. It would have led them to a vampire and... what then? Might they have killed him, or could Karl have killed them? Either is a likely possibility. For five years Anders has been aware of Karl's fate, now he could be about to find out once and for all.

So no, Anders can't really bring himself to talk about it. Thankfully, Garrett seems to understand. So he talks instead.

* * *

“Oh, I think I might be in!” announces Merrill, looking rather pleased with herself. “I love it when this sort of thing actually works.”

The distraction that Garrett’s conversation has provided begins to fade. “Really?” There's another lump in his throat, the feeling that he wants to know and doesn't both at the same time. “What did you find?”

“Just a moment,” says Merrill. Garrett walks around to look over her shoulder as she quickly types something.

Another moment, and then Garrett says, “That's him.”

Anders is frozen in the middle of the kitchen. He can't bring himself to go and look, remembering what happened that evening in Varric’s office. But Garrett was there, he saw the photo that caused Anders to break down. Anders is fairly certain he can trust him to recognise the file on the screen now.

Anders waits, bracing himself as best he possibly can.

“They didn't get him,'' says Merrill.

The feeling that comes over Anders is crushing. Against all his better judgement, it’s hope that rushes him. There's still a chance. Slim, but it's there. Merrill says, “As far as I can see, his phylactery should still be there. They’ve stored it in the Gallows somewhere.”

At this point, Anders doesn't know what he can do. The Gallows is a prison located offshore from Kirkwall. It won't be easy to get hold of. But it's something. It’s the only something they've had since they came up with this idea weeks ago. Anders meets Garrett’s eyes and has the thought right then that somehow they might be able to do this.

Merrill sets about looking for a map or a blueprint that can tell them where the phylacteries are stored. It's not impossible, Anders is beginning to realise. The Underground do this sort of thing all the time. Whenever a mage in the Gallows has been locked away without just cause, finding and destroying their phylactery is imperative if the Underground is to help them escape. Usually, they have someone on the inside who can help with that. There are a few disillusioned templars who know their order to be corrupt and who the Underground find willing to help with her cause. The last one to be stationed in the Gallows itself was recently fired. So that option is out. But there must be a way. Anders doesn't want to risk any more of the Underground's resources on a personal matter. But having Merrill’s help might just work as well.

“What do you think?” says Garrett. “Can we use the tunnels you talked about to get in?”

Anders nods. “The tunnels are still usable, though I've never been beyond them before. Usually, I just meet people at the entrance and help from there.”

“Usually?”

At that point Anders remembers that Garrett doesn't know about his work with the Mage Underground, nor does Merrill. Though he is beginning to think that he should have involved her a long time ago. Her skills would be a valuable asset to them.

“I have friends who do this sort of thing. Help mages to escape from the Gallows, destroy phylacteries so they can't be tracked down.”

Garrett looks impressed, which wasn't exactly what Anders was aiming for but he can't say he's complaining. It's not entirely surprising that Garrett would approve of his work with the Underground but it's nice to have it confirmed. “Well, it sounds like you're the expert on this,” he says with a grin. “What do you think? Can we do it?”

“You mean you'd really do that? Go in there, even knowing the risks?”

“I already told you I'd help.” Garrett says it far too easily.

“You agreed to help look for someone. Not to break into the Gallows. I'd understand if that was something you needed to draw a line at.”

But Garrett just flashes him another charming smile. “Well, I'm hardly about to let you have all the fun without me.”

“I can help too!” says Merrill. “I mean, I don't like the thought of going into the Gallows much. But I can help from out here maybe. Look at this.”

At Merrill's request, Anders finally makes his way around to the other side of the table to look at the laptop screen. She has minimised Karl's file now and filling the screen in its place is a blueprint to what can only be the Gallows. This has the location of the security cameras on each floor. “I think it's possible that I could get into the system and disable them for a little while. I mean, I've never done it before but how difficult could it be?”

Ideally, that is a question Anders would prefer Merrill to know the answer to before they attempt to put it into practice. But this is already beginning to sound like a plan.

“Are we really doing this?” Anders asks, not quite sure he believes it.

“You tell me,” says Garrett. “Whatever you decide, I'm with you.”

Anders doesn't know what he's done to deserve it. But he's grateful. He'll make it up to both of them somehow. It's not that he is suddenly any more comfortable with the idea of stealing a phylactery and using it. He's not. But this is the only thing they have come up with so far that might actually work. Karl is out there somewhere and Anders has lived too long with the shadow of what happened five years ago looming over him. Now there's a slim chance he can make things right. Even if he has to steal Karl’s phylactery. He will. He'll do anything.

* * *

The day after agreeing to their plan to break into the Gallows and steal Karl’s phylactery, Garrett is in the kitchen, making a cup of tea and completely minding his own business, when Marian appears, seemingly from nowhere, and rounds on him. Her arms are folded across her chest and her eyes are narrowed. It might be intimidating to anyone else but Marian is his twin and Garrett has grown up with this sort of hostility. As scary as she can be sometimes, he knows her too well to be truly unnerved by her. 

She begins, “Just what is going on with you and Anders?” 

Garrett looks up from the teabag he’s currently squeezing out against the side of the mug and raises an eyebrow. That’s not a topic he’d expected Marian to actually bring up. Certainly, he knew she had an opinion on it but he’d fully expected her to continue to stew in silent irritation over it, stubbornly refusing to admit to anyone that it bothered her. 

Apparently, it bothers her more than he thought. 

He decides to go easy on her. “You know Bethany and I already had this conversation like two, three weeks ago. You’re free to go back to attempting to ignore whatever problem you have with me.” 

“With Bethany?” asks Marian sharply. “What conversation?” 

Garrett dumps his teabag and heads to the fridge to get the milk. “The one about how if I attempt to pursue anything with Anders it’s all going to end in tears. Don’t worry. I get it.” 

As he turns back towards the counter, he can see Marian still frowning at him. “Do you, though? You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with him. And don’t even get me started on the flirting. You’re not even trying to be subtle about it.” 

Garrett smirks. “When am I ever subtle? Not my style. Go big or go home, I say.” 

“Right,” says Marian, eyeing him disdainfully. “Well don’t. I’d say choose the  _ go home _ option, but you live in the same fucking house so I’d appreciate it if instead you’d just...  _ stop _ .” 

Garrett stirs the milk slowly into his tea before looking up at her again. “What exactly is the problem here? As far as I’m aware, you’re not even interested in Anders that way. Unless, I’m mistaken about that.” 

“No. Why would you even?  _ No _ .” 

“Okay,” says Garrett slowly, “despite the fact that you protest way too much, I am actually inclined to believe you on that. So, again: what’s the problem?” 

“Does it  _ matter _ ?” Marian is quite clearly at the point where she recognises that if she loses her temper, she loses the argument but it’s always a struggle for her not to do it anyway. She’s always been like that. It just makes it more obvious to Garrett that there’s something she’s trying not to let on here. 

He says, calmly, “If you have a good reason to keep me from the simple pleasure of flirting with an attractive man then, yes, I’d like to hear about it.” 

“It’s just.  _ Weird _ . You’re my brother and it’s weird. Okay?” 

Garrett narrows his eyes, feeling a first trickle of annoyance at Marian’s refusal to speak to him plainly. He’s aware that if there’s anyone you can get away with unnecessarily juvenile behaviour around then it’s probably always going to be your siblings. But attempting to dictate who he can and can’t flirt with over such flimsy reasoning is going a bit far, even by Garrett’s relatively relaxed standards. 

He takes a moment to try to figure it out. It’s obviously to do with Anders specifically because, though Marian will make snarky comments about anything given the opportunity, she’s never actively pulled him aside over flirting with someone he was interested in before. So is it just because they’re friends? Like Bethany; she feels protective over him? Or maybe because they all live together? But she could just say that. Even tough, aggressive Marian Hawke can admit sometimes that there are people she genuinely cares about. Even if the person in question is Anders, who she clearly has a complicated relationship with. He’s about to give up and simply demand that she tell him properly when finally, it dawns on him. 

“You slept with him, didn’t you?” 

Marian’s scowl is answer enough. That and she doesn’t deny it. 

Garrett feels... he isn’t sure what he feels, actually. Disappointed? Jealous? But Anders isn’t his to feel jealous of, so that just seems stupid. She’s right, it is weird. Before he’d just assumed Marian wouldn’t care because Anders’ affections were completely one sided. Now it’s like he’s crushing on his twin sister’s ex. That’s slightly more uncomfortable. 

“Seriously?” he groans, rubbing a hand over his forehead. 

“No,” huffs Marian. “You don’t get to be annoyed about this. You’re the one who’s just suddenly come along and made things awkward.” 

“Oh, I think it was already that,” is Garrett’s retort. “All anyone has to do to see it is be in the same room as the two of you. I just didn’t realise it was quite that bad.” 

Marian scowls some more. 

“When?” Garrett can’t help but ask. 

“I’m not talking about this with you.” 

“You started the conversation. You could have just left it, but now, here we are. Anyway, I’m not asking for a bloody performance review. I just want to...” he waves a hand vaguely in the air as he attempts to figure out what he is actually trying to do, “...assess how bad this is.” 

“You’re a fucking pain, you know that?” says Marian huffily. “If you have to know, it was years ago. When we first met. And it... wasn’t supposed to be more than one time.” 

Garrett closes his eyes against the realisation that, yes, it does get worse. Though isn’t sure if that ‘worse’ thing is the implication that Anders and Marian met through a one-night-stand or the obvious conclusion that it definitely wasn’t just limited to one night. 

“But then he just started  _ showing up _ everywhere,” Marian continues. 

“What, on purpose?” Garrett asks with some mild distress. 

“No,” replies Marian and he breathes a sigh of relief. Well, at least he doesn’t have a crush on his sister’s stalker. Now that really would be an issue. “It was pure awkward coincidence. The first time I ran into him again was on one of my patrols in Darktown. He was cornered by a group of vampires and chances were he probably could have handled them on his own, but I didn’t know that so I jumped in and did the hero thing, which he was,” she wrinkles her nose, “way too into.” 

“Okay.” He didn’t really need to know that 

Or, maybe, you know... it could come in useful. 

No. Stopping that thought.  _ Bad Garrett. _

“The next time was at his clinic. Except I didn’t know it was his clinic. Just that Merrill was injured and according to Varric there was a healer down in Darktown who would help her without making her sign her life away to the Circle in exchange. So we go there and oh, look, it's Anders again.” 

Garrett sighs, folding his arms and leaning back against the counter. “Sounds like the start of an epic romance,” he says moodily. 

Marian glares. “Well it wasn’t. It was just supposed to be casual. But then he got attached or whatever.” 

“So you ended it.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Actually, it was him that did that. He gave me this whole speech about how he was bad for me and we needed to end it before he ended up breaking my heart. It was fucking weird.” 

Garrett drops his face into one of his hands. “Marian...” He doesn’t even know what to say. He knows Marian and he’s pretty certain that she’s not usually this bad with people. 

“Well, it was! I didn’t ask him to do that. Okay, so maybe he was just having a bad day. Fine. But, honestly, by that point I was out.” 

Seriously, the way she talks sometimes is baffling. Garrett raises his head to stare at her. “So then at what point did you decide to invite him to live with you?” 

Marian shrugs and scowls some more. “You haven’t seen his clinic,” she says defensively. “He was living there. The room he was sleeping in was little more than a cupboard. And meanwhile I was coming home to this,” she gestures around at the large kitchen, just one bit of evidence of the wealth their grandparents once possessed, before their Uncle Gamlen gambled it all away. “I mean, I had to help somehow. I’m not completely heartless.” 

“I’m honestly kind of surprised you’re even willing to admit it,” Garrett laughs humourlessly. 

“Oh, shut up.” 

“The point is that it’s true: you aren’t heartless. But the way you talk about Anders is shitty and he doesn’t deserve it.” 

“Okay so I’m not evil, I'm just an arse. So fucking what?” 

“It’s not as though you’re like this with everyone though.” 

Garrett notices how she fails to meet his eyes as she mutters, “Well, not everyone grates on me like he does.” 

So there’s definitely more to it than that. 

Garrett doesn’t get it. Sure, he’s only known Anders for a few weeks but in that time he’s proven himself to be smart, funny, compassionate, driven... he laughs at Garrett’s jokes so that’s definitely a plus. And to top it all off, he’s very easy on the eyes. At least Garrett thinks so. He genuinely doesn’t see what’s not to like about him. 

“Am I missing something?” he asks. “Do you actually have some genuine reason to dislike him that you’re not telling me?” 

“I never said I disliked him, Garrett!” she cries. They both fall quiet after that and for a long moment, they simply glare at one another. Then Marian groans and rubs a hand over her face and sounds slightly defeated as she mutters, “For fucks sake… Okay. Look,  I know you're confused about why I…” She stops and sighs. “The truth is, I don’t know why I keep him at a distance. It’s just... When we broke things off, it was mutual. Sort of. But I wasn’t exactly nice about it. And it clearly wasn’t what he actually wanted. I hurt him and I'm... Not really sure if I know how to be his friend after that.”

She scowls at Garrett, so obviously resentful at him getting the truth out of her, that though it seems far too simple, he finds he actually believes it. 

“That's it? That's what's going on with you two?”

She makes a disgruntled noise but otherwise doesn't answer. 

“Have you tried actually talking to him about it?” 

Her answer comes out clipped, “I don't know how.” 

And for some reason, Garrett really can’t keep himself from being an ass about that. “Usually, you open your mouth and words come out. Like we’re doing now.”

“Ugh fuck off, Garrett. You know it's not that easy.” She groans again. “ _ Andraste’s tits _ , why are we still going on about this? Does it really matter that much?” 

Garrett shakes his head but not really in answer to her question. The truth is it has bothered him, this conversation. The things she says about Anders that, until now, she’s refused to give a real reason for. Honestly? The fact that she’s had something with him that Garrett kind of wants. Of course, he’d have handled it differently, though he feels kind of bad for thinking that. He’s never been a jealous person. He doesn’t particularly want to be one now. It feels bad; he could absolutely do without it. 

Marian is looking at him in a way that makes him suspect his thoughts are a lot easier to read on his face than he would like. He sighs. And he admits, “I just really like him, okay. It’s not going anywhere. I don’t expect it to. But I like him.” 

And Marian manages to look a lot less annoyed with the admission than Garrett would have expected. Possibly even bordering on reluctantly sympathetic. “I was sort of gathering that,” she mutters. She makes a face and then asks, “Is this why you’ve been here for so long? I mean it’s been weeks and you haven’t even talked about leaving again.” 

“I’m going to choose not to answer that.” 

“Maker, you’re completely hopeless. It’s like you’ve deliberately set out to torture yourself. I mean, agreeing to help Anders find his estranged ex?  _ Really? _ That proves my point right there.” 

Garrett shoots her an irritated look. “Yeah? Well, at least it seems I can torture you too while I’m at it,” he snaps. “It’s not like I’m trying to get anything out of it, you know. I’m just trying to be nice. You could give it a go yourself sometime.” 

Marian rolls her eyes. “I can be nice. When it counts. You’re just an idiot.” 

Garrett turns and picks up the mug of tea that is probably cooler now than he’d really like. He sips it and, eh, it’ll do. So he says, “I think I’m done now. With this whole conversation that is clearly going nowhere. Thank you, by the way. I’m so glad we had this heart-to-heart.” 

“You know what I think would help,” Marian says, ignoring him. Which is fine because he’s already walking away as she calls after him, “Quit the gross flirting. Nobody needs to see that…” 

He just shakes his head as he leaves the room and hears her trail off with a frustrated sigh. 

It’s another three hours until he plans to meet with Anders again.  _ Well, that’s not going to be awkward at all _ , he thinks, sipping his tea despondently. 

Time to practice pretending that conversation never happened, he decides


	17. Cute first date idea

It takes some time before Anders, Merrill and Garrett are ready to make their move. While the plan itself is a completely reckless undertaking, there's no point in being any more reckless than they need to be. Anders can’t risk involving the Underground. If anything happens, if they're caught, this cannot lead back to them. This requires them to rely heavily on Merrill. She doesn't seem to mind though, saying Anders and Garrett risk the most by being the ones to break in. Merrill need only not get caught hacking the Circle’s computer systems. 

Anders feels better about her doing this when he realises her skills are far from mundane. She's using magic to find information she shouldn't usually be able to find. Anders has no idea how it works. It's definitely not magic of the Circle taught variety. And it’s not blood magic either. He has never seen anything like it before.

They test Merrill’s theory about the cameras using the one Varric has installed outside The Hanged Man. It takes a few tries to get it right but eventually Merrill manages to corrupt the feed through her laptop and Anders, Garrett and Varric watch it happen on the monitor in Varric’s office. First, she merely cuts it off. But they decide it's too obvious it's being tampered with —or it would be if it happened with every camera on the way from the tunnels to the phylactery store room.

So after a few more tries, Merrill manages to loop the feed. That they can risk. Merrill times it so that it's near impossible to notice.

“Daisy, I don't suppose you'd be interested in a job, would you?” says Varric, easily the most impressed out of all of them. 

Merrill blinks at him. “I already have a job, Varric. Though it's kind of you to offer.” 

The entrance to the old lyrium smuggling tunnels is in Darktown, not far from Anders’ clinic, but not so close that it would lead back to Anders if any templars found their way out after them. But just to be safe, Varric offers to let Merrill use his office. There, she is unlikely to be disturbed and Varric can keep an eye on her and be of assistance if anything goes wrong. 

He feels better about it that way, since Anders and Garrett both agree they'd rather not tell Hawke about their plan. 

On the night, they meet as planned in Varric’s office to go over everything one last time. 

They all help to set up. Varric  agrees to let them push his desk into a corner to make room for Merrill to work . She has a laptop and a stack of papers that she spreads out over the floor, printed copies of the blueprint she found, enlarged over several pieces of paper so she can better keep track of them once they're inside. 

Which leads them to the part of this Anders has been most uncomfortable with. They set the map up within a spell circle lined with candles. That part, Anders understands; the circle is meant to help focus the spell while it’s being sustained over a long period. Inside the circle goes the map, Merrill with her laptop and lastly, Anders and Garrett. Varric sits on a chair in one corner, watching with an expression that suggests he's not much happier with this part of the proceedings than Anders is. Merrill had asked him if he had any better ideas for how she was going to know which cameras to tamper with at which point and of course, he’d had no suggestions. So blood magic it is. Anders supposes that as far as blood magic rituals go, this one is fairly innocuous. But on the other hand, he's pretty sure that's how they always get you. 

He muttered something about that when Merrill was explaining the spell to him. She’d looked at him, possibly more calmly than he’d deserved and explained, “The blood is just a tool. It’s not even really what’s powering the spell, I can use mana for that. Theoretically, I could even swap the blood for a hair from your head, or one of the feathers from your lovely coat. But it wouldn’t be as effective. Your blood is your essence. It’s the most reliable way to keep track of you once you’re in there.”

It’s not that he’s one hundred percent convinced but it really doesn’t sound so bad when she puts it like that. “So… no demons?” 

She’d managed to look slightly annoyed at that but simply confirmed, “No. No demons.”

Anders thinks he might be able to live with that. It's for Karl, he reminds himself. And if Merrill insists that she knows what she's doing then he'll give her the benefit of the doubt this time. They couldn't have come this far without her, after all. 

Anders and Garrett sit side by side on the opposite side of the map from Merrill and she holds out a small knife. “I'll need you both to make a cut,” she tells them. 

Anders hesitates. Garrett glances at him briefly then reaches out to take the blade and makes a cut across his palm. The blood wells up bright red against his skin. He holds it carefully so that it won't drip before it's time. Merrill takes back the dagger, wipes it off on a cloth and hands it to Anders. He takes it and repeats the action until the blood wells up on his hand too. Merrill takes back the blade, wipes it and places it to the side. And then she looks at them. “Ready?” 

“Sure, why not?” says Garrett. 

Anders just nods, expression grim. 

“Well then. Here we go,” says Merrill. She takes each of her hands in her own and closes her eyes. Only a moment later, Anders begins to feel it. Despite Merrill's insistence, it still feels wrong somehow, seeing the blood on his palm, and feeling the pull of her magic at it. But he grits his teeth and says nothing. Merrill takes a moment to draw the power she needs then she turns their hands over, allowing the blood drip onto the map. Anders sees the it fall in small drops on the page and then he sees the magic work, sees the blood bubble on the paper just for a second before it begins to move. The small drops converge into two larger markers, one for Anders and one for Garrett, leaving no stain behind on the paper. It pulses against the white surface and Anders can only assume that the spell is working. Merrill’s eyes open. She lets go of their hands and gives them a hesitant smile. 

“And that's it,” she tells them. “You can heal the cuts now if you like.” 

“Is it working?” asks Garrett, fascinated. 

“Er, yes, I think so. It's not really doing anything now because, well, you're here. But once you get  through the tunnels in the Gallows the blood markers will move to wherever on the map you are. I have all of the security cameras marked out so it's just a matter of disabling them as you go.” 

“I've got to hand it to you, Daisy,” says Varric from his place in the corner, “that's kind of brilliant.” 

“Oh,” says Merrill, blushing faintly, “thank you, Varric.” 

Garrett is nodding. Anders heals the cut on his hand, being careful not to leave a scar. The last thing he needs is for one of his patients to notice and mistake him for a blood mage. He is grateful to Merrill for her help but there are people out there who's opinions of blood magic make Anders look positively eager. He takes a moment to heal Garrett’s arm to then murmurs, “Thank you Merrill. So that's really it? Now we just have to go... get on with it?” 

“Um yes. I'll use the map to keep track of you but if you need to contact me, I have my phone. I’ve already spelled both it and Garrett’s so that they’ll connect even if the signal gets bad once you’re underground.” 

“Okay,” says Anders. He is nervous. He’s done a lot of reckless things in his time but this is pushing it. Maybe not for top spot, but it’s up there. He steals a look at Garrett, who just grins and gets to his feet before holding out a hand to help Anders do the same. Anders takes it and follows him up. 

“Ready to go steal from some templars?” 

Anders surprises himself by letting out a laugh. “Always. Anything to piss those bastards off, right?” 

Garrett keeps grinning back at him. “My thoughts exactly.” 

* * *

Anders leads Garrett to the tunnel entrance in Darktown.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Anders asks one last time. “It's not like you're under any obligation to help me.”

“Are you kidding?” says Garrett. “You think there's somewhere I rather be right now?”

“I'm serious.” 

“So am I. Well, near enough. I'm with you on this though. I already told you that.” 

Anders gives him a long look and Garrett tries to figure out if he’s at all reassured by the smile he gives. It’s hard to tell at first. But then Anders says, only slightly hesitant, “Okay. Well then…” and he pulls open the trapdoor leading down into one of the many tunnels running beneath Kirkwall. 

They don't talk much as they make their way through, needing to stay on alert. The tunnels are cold and dark, illuminated only by a small wisp Anders sends out ahead of them. The way seems to be clear, judging by the lack of sound besides their own footsteps. But it doesn't hurt to be cautious.

The long walk doesn't seem to do much to settle Anders’ obvious nerves. Like Garrett, he has made an effort to look less conspicuous than usual by trading his feathered coat for a plain grey jacket. Even in the dim light, it does little to hide the tense way he holds himself. Garrett can understand why he'd be stressed but he still feels like he should say something. 

“You know we've got this, don’t you?”

Anders startles a little at the sudden interruption of whatever he’d been thinking. He blinks at Garrett for a moment before managing a weak smile. “You're that certain?” 

“Somehow I think it would be pretty stupid of me to come out here if I didn't think we could do it.” He flashes a smile that he hopes Anders will find encouraging. It seems to work a little. 

“True...” Anders says. “I agree with you there. Honestly, it's mostly just these tunnels.”

Garrett looks about but all he can see is damp walls and darkness. “Yeah, they're pretty creepy now that you mention it.”

“I can't say I've ever been a fan of dark confined spaces.” lt doesn't take a mind reader to tell that the lightness in his tone is entirely forced.

“Well there can't be much further left to go now, right?”

“No... no, you're right,” agrees Anders and the thought seems to allow him to steel himself.

Sure enough, it takes little more than ten minutes before they reach the end of the tunnel. 

Garrett is about to start up the ladder leading up to the trapdoor into the Gallows when Anders stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “There's something I should have warned you about before we go any further.”

Garrett stops and turns and waits for Anders to go on. “I know we're not expecting many Templars on this level but if we are wrong, if something does happen and we get into trouble, I need you to run. Don't worry about me. Just save yourself.”

And it's a lovely thought, really, Garrett is touched. But there's no way that is going to happen. He opens his mouth to tell Anders so, but Anders gets there first. “I mean it. If I get into trouble, Justice will protect me. But I won't be in control if that happens. I'd like to think that he'd protect you too but when we're in that state I wouldn't want to bet your life on it. Justice isn't... always himself. When it comes to Templars. It's happened before and the results have been, well…” Anders trails off, wincing. “It's not something you’d want to stick around to witness.”

Garrett stares. And here he thought Anders was just being self-sacrificing. “Okay,” he says slowly. “I suppose I'll take your word for that.”

He has to admit, he's a little curious. But the look on Anders’ face tells him not to go there and for once Garrett manages to listen to that voice of reason that oh so rarely catches him before he says anything too inappropriate.

“I'm sorry,” says Anders, “I should have said something earlier. I understand if you want to—”

“I'm not going back,” Garrett interrupts. “Chances are it's not going to come to that right? So let's just keep going.”

Anders gives him a long look and then nods. “I honestly can't believe I haven't managed to put you off already,” he says. His lips are halfway to a smile but there's something sad about his eyes. 

“Is that what you're trying to do?” Garrett chuckles and Anders' lips tug a little wider.

“Not intentionally. But, still, thank you. Come on, we should probably move.”

Anders goes first. He climbs to the top of the ladder and fishes something out of his pocket before pressing it against what looks like a small seal in the stone above him. There's a faint glow, first in the space he touches and then in a square wide enough to fit a person through. Sure enough, where before there was only smooth rock, now there's a trap door. Pushing it aside, Anders continues his assent and Garrett follows him up.

Once they’re in, he takes a moment to listen out for any movement nearby, but the room is as deserted as they’d expected it to be. Even so, he whispers his next question, “How does that work exactly?”

“Exactly? I don't know,” Anders whispers back with a shrug. “When the Underground commandeered these tunnels, they had to make it so that the Templars wouldn't be able to locate them. The magic that hides the door corresponds to the magic in this ring.” Anders holds out his palm and sitting in the centre of it is a signet ring bearing what Garrett recognises as the emblem of the Mage Underground. He’s heard of them before. They’re infamous throughout Thedas as one of the more extreme groups working against the Circle. They are also rather more secretive about their members than many of the other mage rights groups he’s heard of. When Anders mentioned his friends that help mages escape the Gallows, it hadn't even crossed Garrett’s mind that he had been talking about the Underground. He can't quite believe Anders has told him now. 

Anders looks at him apprehensively. “I can trust you not to tell anyone, right? I mean, I suppose it's a bit late to worry about it now but... I  _ feel  _ like I can trust you.”

Garrett is momentarily lost for words but after blinking stupidly at Anders for a few seconds, he manages to pull together a few. “Yes, of course. I mean—absolutely.”

Anders gives him a small smile and Garrett thinks that if Anders really is trying to put him off then he's doing a terrible job at it. If anything, it's having quite the opposite effect. 

It's probably not something he should mention now, but finding out Anders is a member of a secret underground resistance group with the aim of smuggling falsely accused mages out of Circle prisons? Kind of a turn-on.

“Uh... shall we?” Garrett points a finger at the door leading out into the corridor. Anders nods and casts a spell to hide the trap door they've just come up through.

The room they found themselves in is a small store room. They don't have to worry about cameras or whether Merrill’s spell has worked just yet. They are all located around the corridors. Garrett takes out his phone just in time to see a message flash up from Merrill:  _ it's working! No templars in sight. Ready when you are.  _

_ Heading out now _ , he sends back to her. He relays the information to Anders as he pulls up the map of the floor on his phone. It's left out of this door, then along to the end of the corridor. 

“Ready?” 

“Let's go,” says Anders.

As they stepped out of the room, Anders dims the light from his wisp. It takes a moment to adjust to the reduced lighting but it's still a step up from the cave. Or well, it would be if it wasn't a prison they were in now instead. The darkness is at least reassuring in that it shows the floor isn't in use. They've been lucky in that the lowest level, the one the tunnels open up onto, also happens to be used mainly for storage. And one of those things that needs storing are phylacteries. They'll be in a much more secure chamber than the one they just came out from but that's what they have Merrill for. All they need to do now is to get to the right location.

It turns out the Gallows is a big place. Even just crossing the basement level takes a while. They pass several cameras and so far there's no sign of anyone having spotted them down here so it seems safe to assume everything is going to plan.

Garrett’s never been a fan of quiet. And honestly all the sneaking around makes him itch to fill the silence. He opens his mouth to say something but somehow Anders beats him to it, whispering suddenly, “You're not what I expected.”

“Huh?” Garrett laughs. “What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know… it’s just with me - with the way I am… I never expect people to just accept it. But none of this even seems to faze you.”

He guesses that Anders is talking about Justice.

“Did the others handle it badly?” Garrett asks. He doesn't quite know what else to say. There are things he  _ could  _ say. Plenty of them but he's not quite sure it would be wise to do so.

“Not as badly as they could have done, I suppose. Hawke was suspicious for a while. Bethany was uncertain but she came around the fastest. Merrill and Isabella were pretty accepting I guess but I didn't really get to know them until Hawke decided I wasn't about to lose control at any given moment and started involving me more with her work.”

That makes Garrett wonder at what point in their relationship Marian found out. But it's a morbid sort out of curiosity. He doesn't think it would do him any good to know any more of the details about that. He just can't really help but wonder, that's all.

“Does it really not bother you?”

“Justice? Well you said that the two of you aren’t really two at all. You're basically the same person? And you seem alright to me so… Am I doing a good job at reasoning with that?”

“Better than most,” Anders smiles. “It’s certainly comforting to hear.”

“Well, good because to be honest it's all sort of confusing to think about.”

Anders snorts. “Try living it. What about the Underground? We don't exactly have a great reputation. The media would paint us all as criminals but all we want is what's right.”

Garrett can't help but laugh a little. “You know, considering what we're doing right now I wonder why you feel you have to ask.” 

Anders smiles. “Fair point.”

“But if you really want to know…” Garrett gives Anders an appreciative look and knows he should keep his mouth shut but… ah, fuck it. “Don't say I didn't warn you but finding out you're some kind of rebel mage activist on top of everything else?” He gives him one of his more flirtatious smiles. “It's kind of hot. I'm definitely into it.”

Anders opens his mouth but no words come out. Garrett wonders if he's blushing but he can't quite tell in the dim wisp light. Eventually Anders manages to muster a response. “Okay yes. You kind of did warn me… that doesn't quite mean it’s fair though.” 

“Because I'm irresistible?” Garrett shoots back with a grin. Anders sends a glare back at him but there’s no real anger in the look. Instead, there is something else. Garrett isn't entirely what but he thinks it might be regret. And suddenly he feels like a bit of an ass. It might just be harmless flirting to him but to Anders... being put in a position where you have to continuously turn someone down can't be much fun. Perhaps as much fun as being continuously turned down.

Garrett lets out a quiet groan at his own foolishness, rubbing a hand over his face as he tells him, “I'm sorry. It's obvious that you're going through something right now and I'm clearly not helping things. I’ll try to behave myself from now on.”

“Hey, it's okay,” says Anders quietly. But Garrett still feels like an idiot. They're here for Karl, he reminds himself, and that's got to be confusing enough without Garrett complicating things. “You know it's just…”

“It's fine,” Garrett assures him. “I understand. you have Karl to think about, right?” 

“I… suppose that's…” 

Then, for some reason, Garrett says, “And Marian?”

Anders stares at him. “You know about that?”

Garrett isn’t quite sure what possessed him to bring that up. He feels his face heat up and really hopes it isn’t noticeable as he tries to play it off like this isn’t the absolute last thing he really wants to talk about right now. “I think everyone knows about that.” Garrett laughs awkwardly and adds, “I, er, sort of found out how the two of you met the other day.”

Which, of course, does absolutely nothing to salvage the situation.

Anders sends him a panicked look that would be almost funny if Garrett didn't find the whole thing a little bit depressing.

“Oh… at the, er... clinic?” This earns Anders a look that says  _ ‘seriously?’ _ “Okay. Not at the clinic. Did she really tell you about that?”

“Not intentionally,” says Garrett, still wondering why he even brought it up, “but yeah.”

“Right, um…” And this looks around, staring ahead into the darkness stretching out along the corridor in front of them as he searches for a response. “Do you really think now is the best time to be doing this?”

Garrett laughs. “Hey, if you think I'm going to see an opportunity to make things extremely awkward for everyone involved, including myself, and  _ not  _ take it, then you clearly don't know me very well.”

Anders gives him a pained look. “Good to know.” 

“It's okay, you can relax.” Garrett hopes he sounds more casual than he feels. “I honestly don't know why I brought it up. It's none of my business.”

“You mean this isn’t some sort of uncomfortable ‘stay away from my sister, or else’ conversation?”

“What?” Garrett snorts, remembering the discussion he had with Bethany about a similar topic. “No, making threats of ass kickings, or whatever it is you’re thinking, is more Marian’s area of expertise.” Or Bethany’s, apparently.

Then Anders gives him a look. Not directed at his face. It definitely lingers more around his chest and arms. He raises an eyebrow and says, “I don't know, you look like you can handle yourself.”

Garrett’s mouth drops open and he laughs, forgetting himself for a moment along with the fact that they're supposed to be being sneaky and that laugh was anything but. He stifles the rest of the sound but can't keep himself from commenting, “Now who's coming onto who? I take back my apology from before. You're just as bad as I am!”

Anders shrugs and lets out a soft chuckle. Garrett smirks back at him but then he meets his eyes and the smirk softens into something else. There’s something charged in the look they share and even in the dim light he doesn't think either of them could deny it. Nor can he pretend that it doesn't occur to him to wonder what Anders would do if Garrett were to simply throw caution to the wind and kiss him, the way he’s been so badly wanting to from the start. Does the Karl situation really have to be an issue? Anders hasn't actually said anything about getting back together with him, only making sure that he's okay. And whatever was going on with Marian is obviously in the past. It's clear that they’re both interested. There really shouldn't be anything stopping them... 

Except that Anders said no. And Garrett has every intention of respecting that.

Anders looks at him like he’s just read Garrett’s every thought written on his face. He takes a breath and looks away.

Garrett does the same. “We, uh… I think we’re almost there…”

He checks the map on his phone and sure enough, the phylactery chamber is just around the next corner.

They go the rest of the way in silence and thankfully it’s not long before they’re standing in front of what can only be described as a large vault. The sight of it makes Garrett realise how distracted he’s let himself get. It suddenly hits him, what they’re doing here and how risky it is. They’ve made it this far without incident, which can only mean Merrill’s interference with the security footage has been successful. But in front of them now is a large metal door, to the side of which is a keypad and what looks to be some sort of scanner. Garrett hopes that Merrill has some way of overriding it because if not, they’ve come all this way for nothing. 

A message comes through from Merrill:  _ Almost got it. _ And Garrett figures that means she has a method after all. A few seconds later Merrill says:  _ There! Try the door. _

Garrett reaches for the handle, pulls and, sure enough, the door opens, creaking in a way that makes his whole body tense. He looks to Anders and they both stop and listen for a moment but there is no other sound to suggest they might have alerted anyone to their presence. 

“Merrill is… seriously amazing,” Anders murmurs after a moment. “I may have to try harder to recruit her to the cause.”

“I’m pretty sure you’d be unstoppable if you did,” says Garrett, equally impressed.

But if they thought the difficult part was over, they were clearly mistaken. The room they step into is full of small blood filled vials. There must be thousands of them, arranged upon rows and rows of shelves stretching back as far as they can see, which is admittedly, not that far in the dim light cast by Anders’ wisp.

“There must be a system,” Anders mutters as he steps towards the closest shelf. If there is, it’s not one that’s clearly labeled.

Anders checks enough of the closest vials to establish that they’ve been stored alphabetically. Then it takes a few more minutes of wandering among the shelves to locate the Ts. “I can’t tell you how badly I wish I could destroy the whole lot of them,” says Anders.

“It would be kind of a giveaway that we’ve been here,” Garrett replies. He’s never had to give his own blood for a phylactery the way Anders has, so he can’t know what Anders is feeling, exactly. But he’s always thought there was something creepy and unnecessary about the practice of binding a mage's contract with the Circle with blood that can be later used to find them if they disappear. He can’t say he’d mind destroying them either.

“That's the only thing that's stopping me, believe me.” Anders’ brow furrows. “ I can't find it. Thekla—it should be here. Don't tell me we’ve come all this way for nothing.”

“It's got to be here,” says Garrett. “This was the room listed on his file.”

But he looks and sure enough there's no sign of the phylactery belonging to Thekla among the row of vials in front of Anders, each marked with surnames beginning with T. He's about to suggest that they look around elsewhere when his phone buzzes. But rather than a message this time there's a call coming through. Garrett answers, “Merrill?” 

“Hey there, Chuckles,” comes Varric’s voice on the other end and Garrett wonders if the lightness in his tone might be a little bit forced. He realises why when he continues with, “Just a heads up: there's a templar coming your way. Best if you hurry up in there.”

Anders has moved away from the section they were searching but he freezes on his way to the far end of the room when Garrett repeats, “A templar? Did they—”

“No need to panic just yet. It looks like it's just a routine patrol. Bad timing that's all.”

Garrett relaxes only a little. “Keep looking,'' he tells Anders. “But hurry.”

“Best if you do,” Varric agrees. “Daisy wants the two of you out of there before this guy passes by. Doesn't want to risk locking you in just in case the spell she used to bypass the lock doesn't work so well the second time around.” 

“Good to know she has such confidence in herself,” he says with a wince. “Okay, how long do we have?”

“He's still a way off. But she wants you out of there in five.”

Five minutes. Great. No pressure, then. “Right. We’ll keep looking. Keep us updated.”

“Will do,'' says Varric and Garrett hangs up. He finds Anders at the back of the room, kneeling in front of a low cupboard built into the wall. “There's a templar patrolling the floor. We've got five minutes.”

“Shit.” Anders allows himself a breath then says, “Okay. Okay, I think I found something. These aren't sorted like the rest. Help me look through them.” 

They pull out several small racks with phylacteries stacked on them in no clear order. Garrett isn't sure why they've been removed from the main collection but given that Karl’s isn’t with the rest, it makes sense that it would be here instead. 

With the time it takes to read the names corresponding with each individual vial, Garrett knows they're pushing it. He wonders, why aren’t they sorted the same way as the others. It’s almost like they’ve set it up this way on purpose. Garrett pushes that thought away. The last thing he needs is to be visualising templars catching them in the act, having expected them the whole time. What he needs is to focus. 

Eventually, and thankfully within the allotted five minutes, Anders says, “This is it. It's Karl’s!”

Garrett feels relief flood through him. “You’re sure?”

“It’s his.”

He releases a breath. “Then let's get out of here. Quick, we need to put these back.”

By the time they've got the phylacteries back in the cupboard, they're over the five minutes. Garrett’s phone buzzes again. 

“You need to move now,” says Varric when Garrett answers. 

“We're going,” Garrett tells him. He’s already heading towards the door, Anders close behind him.

“Turn right when you get out. And try to keep the light to a minimum. He's not on you yet but it's a lot closer than we wanted.”

We can take one templar,” Anders murmurs when Garrett hangs up. He dispels the mage light. It’s not exactly going to make things easy but the light from Garrett’s phone will have to be enough in its place. “But it's probably better if it doesn't come to that.”

“Agreed,” says Garrett and they head out as per Varric's instructions.

This time, as they make their way through the dark corridor, Garrett finds he no longer feels such a pressing urge to fill the silence with whispered chatter. In fact, every sound he does make now feels far too loud and when, after a few more minutes of walking, his phone vibrates in his hand, he winces at the dull sound it makes.

“Don't say anything,” comes Varric’s voice, low through the speaker when Garrett answers. “He's close. You’ll have to hide while he passes you by. There should be a door somewhere to your left. Go inside and sit tight until I tell you to move. Hurry. This guy needs to be caught on camera or the security footage is going to look very suspicious.”

As instructed, Garrett doesn't answer. He holds a finger to his lips for Anders, who’s already watching him closely. There’s something visibly anxious in his expression, even in the minimal light from Garrett’s phone. Garrett wishes he could reassure him but there’s barely even time for the thought. What’s far more important right now is that he follows Varric’s instructions. He looks around for the room Varric has told them to hide within. It's close. Only a few feet away. He points and Anders follows as he approaches, trying the handle and pulling it open as carefully as he can manage. Thankfully, this door is a lot lighter than the one to the phylactery chamber and he gets it open without a sound.

It must be a combination of the darkness and the pressure they’re under but it’s only once he’s in that Garrett notices it's not actually a room. It's a supply cupboard. Because of course it is. There's barely enough space for the two of them to fit inside but with the templar approaching, they have no choice but to do exactly that. They get inside and close the door as quietly as possible. Then Garrett sends Varric a quick confirmation that they've done as instructed and turns the light off on his phone so it won't show under the door. 

For a moment it's completely dark and Garrett almost wants to laugh at how ridiculous this situation is. Varric couldn't have orchestrated it better. It’s almost like he knew about that moment in the corridor earlier and how in different circumstances, Garrett probably would have just gone for it and acted on his impulses. But as it is, Anders isn’t interested and, now, here they are, pressed chest to chest in this small space. It's too dark to see Anders’ features but he can feel his breath on his face. 

His breath that's coming just slightly too fast. 

“Fuck,” Anders whispers, almost too low to be audible. And it's the tone in his voice that finally reminds Garrett that Anders is claustrophobic.

He can't hear any sign of the templar on patrol just yet so he figures it’s safe to whisper, “It's okay. We just have to stick this out for a few minutes then we’re getting out of here.” He has no idea if the reassurance is of any use but it's all he can think to do. That and to reach out his hand, until his fingers brush Anders’. When Anders doesn’t pull away, Garrett takes Anders’ hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently. His heart is pounding and it’s probably not just from their proximity because he’d tense enough before. But this isn’t exactly helping. Is this okay, he wonders, brushing his thumb tentatively over the back of Anders’ hand. Will it help, or make things worse? Garrett tries to relax because one thing that definitely will make this worse is if he panics too. 

After a moment, Anders’ fingers tighten around his and Garrett feels a little of the tension go out of him. It’s helping, then, he thinks. Then he hears, feels Anders’ breath shudder out of him just before he lets his head drop to Garrett’s shoulder. Garrett hesitates for just a moment before lifting a hand to touch Anders’ hair. It's soft and fine under his fingers, which he trails lightly down to rest at the base of Anders' skull.

He murmurs, “You're going to be okay.” 

Anders is still far too tense but after a moment, he squeezes Garrett’s hand briefly. Garrett doesn't dare to speak again after that. Sure enough, after a few minutes, they hear the sound of footsteps in the corridor. He sees a faint light under the crack in the door, growing brighter as the footsteps get nearer. Garrett’s heart is beating so hard he can hear it. What if they’ve been too loud and this templar is already looking for them? What if their hiding spot is too obvious? He holds his breath and remembers what Anders said about being able to take one templar. Even if they’re caught, it’s not as though they can’t still get out of it. But then they’ll know they were here. He doesn’t need that complication in his life. Neither of them do. 

He pushes the thought away and focuses on Anders, the weight of his head against his shoulder, his fingers entwined with his. Though it’s not as though it  _ means  _ anything. And, oh, wonderful. That thought is certainly distracting.

The templar is outside the door. Neither one of them dares to breathe...

But nothing happens. The footsteps carry on and the door remains firmly shut beside them. After a few minutes they get the all-clear from Merrill and Varric.

Garrett reaches out to turn the door handle and Anders lifts his head and lets go of Garrett’s hand.

“Sorry,” he mutters once they’re out. 

Garrett keeps his voice low as he answers, “Hey. It's fine. Are you okay?”

Anders nods without meeting his eyes. “Let's just get out of here.”

Garrett is more than happy to do so. They’re both still on edge as they make their way back to the first store room but there’s no further incident. The corridors are as quiet, dark and empty as they were on the way in. Perhaps more so, as neither of them dare to summon any kind of light until they’re back in the room where they started. There, Garrett closes the door behind them and decides it should be safe to conjure a small wisp light. He catches Anders’ grateful look and says, “We can wait awhile if you want. Until you're feeling a bit more up to going down there.” He figures if the tunnels were upsetting for him before, Anders isn't going to relish going back into them now. 

But Anders shakes his head. “I'm okay. I'd rather just get away from this place.” 

The trapdoor leading back into the tunnels is marked on this end by a blank seal. Anders presses his ring to it and it glows with the same sigil from earlier before revealing a hidden door in the stone. Anders opens up the entrance to the tunnel and they both climb inside. As soon as the way behind is resealed, Anders turns to Garrett with a relieved sigh. “We actually did it.”

Garrett grins back at him. “I know I said we could but I feel like I can finally admit now but I'm sort of amazed that really worked.”

Anders gives him a smile that’s still a little bit shaky. “Thank you,” he says, with real feeling. “You risked a lot, helping me with this. And you didn't have to. I can't tell you how much it means to me.”

The earnest look on Anders’ face sends a rush of warmth through Garrett and he’s strangely lost for words. He manages a cheery, “Hey, anytime.” 

Anders looks slightly more uncomfortable but no less sincere as he goes on, “And... and back in that—I mean, just then… Thank you. I don't know what you must think, seeing me react like that.”

Honestly, it hadn't occurred to Garrett to think anything of it. “Hey, no. You already told me confined spaces freak you out. Don't worry about it.”

But seeing the way his eyes lower he’s not sure Anders is comforted by that. “It was just with that templar coming… I hate feeling like I'm trapped.”

It had seemed to help before, so Garrett reaches out a hand to lightly clasp the side of Anders’ arm and tells him with feeling, “I get it. You handled it pretty well if you ask me.”

Anders gives him a weak smile. “Well, you helped. Thank you.”

Garrett smiles back. “No problem. Come on, let’s get out of here.” He gives Anders’ arm a light squeeze before letting go and only when Anders nods does he turn and set off down the dank passage towards Darktown.


	18. The gang plan a murder

It's a slow night. Marian is glad that the others all seemed to have somewhere else to be tonight because the groups of three or four vampires they keep coming across haven't been quite enough for a satisfying fight so far. Between herself, Isabela and Fenris, the small groups are spread far too thin. She doesn't say anything about it of course, because Fenris has already called her out for being too reckless. Looking at him, she's not sure she even needs to say anything about it. He knows. He's just that perceptive. It feels a little strange from someone she's only known for a month but though it bothers her a little, it's sort of worth it for all his other good points.

Like his efficiency at killing vampires.

In any case, it doesn't really matter because a few minutes after the last encounter, Isabela wines, “I'm bored. Can't we do something fun?”

“That wasn't fun for you?” Marian asks and Fenris snorts quietly. 

“Well, it certainly was relaxing to sit back while the two of you do all the work,” says Isabela, eyeing them both with interest. “But it's not quite what I had in mind for the night.”

“It  _ is _ pretty slow. I can probably handle the rest if you two want to go.”

“Is that the only other alternative?” Isabela huffs. “Come on, Merrill’s busy tonight and I don't have anything better to do than follow you around. But that doesn't mean we have to resign ourselves to wandering the streets.”

Marian raises an eyebrow. “That's kind of the point of patrolling, you know. So that we're here if anything does happen.”

“Except that there's no one else out here.”

“She does have a point,” says Fenris. “We would do better to return when we have a lead on where any new groups might have set up.”

“Actually,” says Isabela, “That's something I've been meaning to talk to you about. I may have something. But I'd rather not discuss it here.”

Marian sighs. “Alright. I guess we can call it a night and have a drink at The Hanged Man.”

Isabela looks for a moment as though she's about to agree. But then she stops herself. “Not The Hanged Man. Fenris, weren’t you telling us just the other day all about how that mansion of yours has an extremely well-stocked wine cellar. Seems like a shame not to take advantage of that.”

Marian raises her eyebrows. So far, she and Fenris have been working well together. But that’s all it has been. Work. Whenever she's been to his house, it's always been to pick him up for a patrol. It's never been a social thing. Are they at that stage now? Is it even okay for them to get there, considering who they are? Marian has considered the idea that they may be becoming friends. But this would feel like really admitting it. Fenris is a vampire, something she's hunted and hated for so many years. Marian tries to decide if she’s ready for that but the truth is, she doesn’t know. 

But while her thoughts are conflicted, something else - that gut instinct she’s already followed so far into this strange relationship with Fenris - is telling her  _ yes _ .

She looks at Fenris, who shrugs, as if to say ‘it's up to you’.

Slowly, she nods. And far more casually than she really feels, she answers, “Sure. Who am I to say no to free drinks?”

They encounter no trouble on the way back to Fenris’ place. He says nothing as he lets them inside and leads them to a sitting room that is only slightly less filthy than the other rooms they've passed through, if only because it doesn't have the ash of two dozen dead vampires trampled into the carpet. Which really isn't saying much. It's as much a state of disrepair as the rest of the mansion.

“Not really one for tidying, are we?” Marian remarks. The truth is, politeness never really has been her strong point.

“My days of concerning myself with Danarius’ messes are over,” says Fenris.

Marian concedes that that's a fair point. But still, “Pretty sure the bits of dead vampire in the carpet were us, though.”

Fenris shrugs. “I will get the wine... Though,” he hesitates, glancing between Marian and Isabela, “I have no glasses.”

“Oh you sweet thing,” says Isabela, throwing herself into an armchair that, like much of the house, has seen far better days. “Look at us. Have we ever given the impression of being quite that classy? Just bring the bottles. I’m sure we’ll manage somehow.”

Fenris gives one of those soft amused huffs that isn't quite a full laugh. 

“Can I ask why you have no glasses?” asks Marian. Not that she particularly cares much more than Isabela but the previous residents of the mansion seem to have left everything else behind. “Surely the kitchen…”

Fenris answers drily, “If the ash in the carpet bothers you then I would advise against taking a look at the kitchen.”

Marian snorts. “Say no more. Bottles will do just fine.”

The couch and armchairs are set up around a soot filled fireplace. It’s cold in the mansion and Marian thinks a fire would be a fine idea. But the truth is, she has lived her whole life around mages who can light a fire with a simple flick of the wrist. She's not exactly sure how to go about building one manually. All of the things required seem to be here in a basket at the side of the fireplace, covered in dust and soot but hopefully still usable. She brushes most of the soot out of the grate then sets about figuring out the rest. At least until Isabela sighs. “Oh, come here,” and takes over with a great deal more practiced skill. 

“I didn't know this was your thing,” says Marian. 

“I'll have you know I am a very practical person,” says Isabela. “One can’t rely upon good looks for everything.”

“Or mages, apparently.”

Fenris reappears while Isabela is working on the fire. Soon enough, she has it roaring away and they enjoy it's warmth as they pass a bottle of red between them. 

“You know,” says Isabela, passing the bottle to Fenris, “I always thought vampires were all blood blood blood. Clearly I was wrong. Are there many other mortal pleasures you partake in? Besides good wine that is?”

Marian scowls. They haven't even been here half an hour and already Isabela is getting far too personal. “I don't think we’re quite drunk enough for this conversation.”

Isabela smirks at her. “Oh hush, you. Where _ is _ your mind going? It’s a perfectly innocent question.” She looks back to Fenris. “So you can drink, obviously. What about food? Do you eat?”

“It is possible,” says Fenris, amiably enough; apparently he’s a lot more willing to talk than Marian expected, “though I do not need it. Blood is the only sustenance I actually require. As long as I feed regularly, my body functions like that of a mortal. It has been some time since I tried any kind of solid food, though. I’m not sure how well I would stomach it now.” 

“Interesting,” she drawls. “So then  _ everything _ functions as usual?”

“Isabela.” She can play innocent but there’s no mistaking her meaning. It’s all there in the suggestive drawl she uses. And while Fenris might not outwardly object — she can’t tell if he’s embarrassed, his Wicked Grace face is too good — Marian certainly doesn’t need to hear it. 

Isabela laughs. “What? I'm only curious. I’ve never had a friend who was a vampire before.”

Fenris raises an eyebrow. “Is that what we are?”

But with that, the mask slips a little. Marian tries to ignore that barest hint of vulnerability she senses within the question. 

She thinks that Isabela might have picked up on it too because there’s a soft edge to her voice as she tells him, “We’re in your house in the middle of the night drinking wine, getting all cozy by the fire. I think that's quite a friendly thing to do, don't you?”

Fenris looks at Isabela and the corners of his mouth turn up into something that's almost a smile. He tries to detract from it by taking a swig of the wine straight from the bottle, then he looks at Marian. She sees the question in the look as he hands the bottle to her. 

Marian hesitates. She’s not so sure that’s something she’s ready to be asked. She takes the bottle and looks away quickly before taking a swig. Then she has to stop herself from visibly wincing as she thinks of the look on Fenris’ face and wonders if this is really the best she can do.

She allows herself a few seconds to stew in awkwardness then turns to Isabela. “Fascinating as it is, prying into things that are none of our business, wasn’t there something you wanted to talk about?”

Isabela rolls her eyes. “Yes, fine. You're no fun at all. I don't know much for certain at the moment but I have a reason to believe that someone might be setting up a new slaver outpost in Kirkwall.”

“How do you know this?” asks Fenris sharply enough that Marian allows herself another glance at him.

“It’s, er, someone I've been keeping an eye out for.”

Fenris frowns at Isabela. “And why is that?”

“Because I used to work for him? Not like that.” Isabela holds up her hands as she sees Fenris stiffen. “His name is Castillon. Back in Rivain, he was a smuggler. He dealt in lyrium, drugs, that sort of thing. I used to take the odd job from him from time to time but as soon as I found out he was dealing in human cargo I got out of there. Even I know that's wrong.”

“Why do I get the feeling there's more to it than you're saying?” says Marian.

“Probably because there is. When I realised I might be out of a job for a while, I decided to make the best of a bad situation.”

“You stole from him,” says Fenris.

“I stole from him. I took the goods I had—non-human, elven, whatever—and I got out of there. I sold it, kept the profit and came to Kirkwall to lie low for a while. I’ve been here ever since. Turns out hiding is easier than you think when half your friends are illegal mages. No one’s big on social media in this group. It helps a lot. “

“But now this guy, Castillon, he's in Kirkwall? Does he know you're here?” Marian asks.

“I've no idea. I don't even know if he's here for certain. All I've heard word of is one of his men, Hayder. And whispers about a slaver outpost. But nothing solid about where. I just figure, if Castillon's lackeys are about, he can't be far behind.”

“Okay,” Marian sighs, taking another swig of the wine before handing the bottle back to Fenris. Isabela frowns and holds out her hand but Fenris just raises an eyebrow at her and drinks, something Marian notices with approval. Though she supposes she’s being unfair. Isabela might not even be the reason they’re here. “Have you told Varric about this?” 

“Who do you think I've had looking out for Castillon all these years?”

“I can't believe I didn't know about any of this.”

Isabela shrugs then reaches out and plucks the wine bottle out of Fenris’ hand. “It didn't really matter until now,” she answers before taking a gulp.

“And now that it matters? What do you want to do?”

“Get to him before he gets to me? Look, it's perfect. We figure out where he is and,” she points to Marian with the bottle, “you get to do your hero thing. You,” she points to Fenris, “want to kill a bunch of slavers? Be my guest. While I,” Isabela tips the bottle back towards herself and drinks, “get to live my life without worrying about that bastard coming to collect.” 

“We aren't supposed to kill people, remember?” says Marian dispassionately.

“Do slavers really count as people, though? It's like... it's justice or whatever. Where is Anders when you need him? He’d totally get it.” She holds the wine out to Fenris and he takes it from her. “You understand, don’t you Fenris?”

“Certainly.”

“Hmm, perhaps the two of you would get along better than you think.”

Fenris gives Isabela a doubtful look.

“Look, all I'm saying Is that it's frowned upon,” says Marian. “Murder, I mean. But things happen. Slavers make deals with vampires all the time. If something went wrong and a vampire killed a bunch of them, that wouldn't be my fault. I can't be expected to save everyone can I?”

Isabela grins, “Not at all.”

Fenris has a dark smile of his own. “I like the way you think, Hawke.”

Marian leans over and takes the wine bottle from Fenris. “I don't know what you're talking about,” she tells him but she can't resist a smirk of her own. She tips her head back and finishes the last of the wine. 

“There is more,” suggests Fenris. 

“Well then open it up. The night is young,” says Isabela.

“What Isabela said,” Marian agrees. She watches as Fenris grabs a bottle that he’s left on the floor beside him and picks up the corkscrew from the armrest of the sofa. She narrows her eyes and asks him, “So you don't have any wine glasses because the kitchen here is in some sort of horrific state that must never be spoken of. But you have a corkscrew. Would I be correct in assuming you went out and bought it? But no glasses.”

Fenris glances at her with a raised eyebrow, “I have my priorities.”

Marian lets out a short laugh. “Well I can't fault you there.”

He gives her one of those small smirks of his in return.

Between the three of them, they get through a second bottle and are just starting on the third when Isabela gets a text and gets to her feet with a pleased smile. “Well, this has been lovely. But I have places to be.”

“Merrill?”

“Yes. If you must know.”

“Still not your girlfriend though?”

Isabela narrows her eyes at Marian but there’s a small smirk playing on her lips. “Quiet you.”

Marian laughs. She might be a bit tipsy. 

“Thank you for the wine, lovely,” Isabela tells Fenris. “We should definitely do this again.”

“Anytime,” says Fenris. “It would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

“Or to leave any for that Danarius if he comes back.”

“If he shows his face the wine will be the least of his worries.”

Isabela gives him an approving look. “I'll be in touch and let you know if I hear anything else about Castillon,” she tells them before heading out.

And Marian really must be drunk because it takes this long to process that Isabela leaving means she is now alone with Fenris. 

“I suppose I don't really need to stick around either now” she tells him, attempting to mask her sudden awkwardness. She doesn't know where it's come from and cannot say she enjoys the feeling.

“True,” Fenris replies. “Though you may do so anyway if you wish. We have nearly a whole bottle left to finish.”

Marian eyes the bottle in his hand. He does have a point. “Well, when you put it like that…”

She holds her hand out for the bottle and he passes to her with a small smirk. 

She wonders if he does that on purpose. There is something extremely alluring about his smile, she thinks. Then she catches herself and scowls. What is wrong with her? She should not be thinking that way about a vampire. Even if it is Fenris. She knows vampires can be charming—the ones that aren't simply blood starved beasts, anyway—but it's something she is supposed to be immune to. It’s the fucking wine, making an idiot out of her. It's got to be.

Fenris, of course, notices her expression. “What is it?” he asks her.

“Are you drunk?” she's not entirely sure where the question comes from and neither is Fenris by the look of it. 

He raises an eyebrow. “Do I seem that way?”

“No. Not in the slightest. And yet, you’ve had as much as I have. Is that a vampire thing?”

“Perhaps.” He shrugs. 

“Oh, very mysterious. Is  _ that _ a vampire thing?”

This time he smirks again. “Perhaps.”

A small laugh escapes her.

“Does it bother you, or something? Personal questions, I mean.”

He seems surprised that she asked. “Ah… not entirely.”

“But…?”

“There are... things I would rather not speak of.” He pauses and Marian watches him for a moment. He’s sitting forward in his chair with an elbow resting on one of his knees. He seems more at ease than she’s used to. Warmer. More open. Perhaps he’s just in a good mood. He shrugs before leaning back against the cushions behind him. “There’s a good chance I would tell you whatever you wished to know. I have no intention of being anything but forthright with you.”

It surprises her. “Well, that’s good to know... But it’s not like it’s necessary. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” Fenris doesn’t answer. Just looks at her thoughtfully. “What about Isabela? The things she asks. Does that bother you?”

He shrugs and shakes his head in a way that suggests his answer is the same as the one before. She doesn’t know why she asked. She wonders if she might have offended him. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Sorry,” she mutters anyway. She takes another gulp of the wine and passes it to Fenris. “I’m no good at this.” 

Fenris takes a drink. Then he looks at her again. “What is ‘ _ this _ ’?”

“Talking…  _ Friends _ … I don’t know.”

“You have a lot of friends, Hawke. Close ones. People you trust with your life.”

He seems a little bit in awe with it in fact. But Marian just shrugs. “I’m lucky. In that at least. But it’s different with them.” Again, she doesn’t know where that came from. Why should he be different. Because he’s a vampire? That seems like the obvious answer and yet she’s not quite sure it’s the right one. 

He doesn’t let it slide. “How so?”

She fumbles for an answer. “They’re all loudmouths. You’re different. It’s probably why I like you.”

She sees his surprise and winces. Fuck.

Then she sees him smile.

But, again:  _ fuck _ .

It’s not a big grin. It’s not in any way obvious. It’s more about the way his green eyes get strangely vulnerable with that tentative curve of his lips. Merrill was right about his eyes. They are pretty. They gaze at her with a particular intensity she has never seen from him before and she finds it hard to look away. Perhaps the wine has affected more than she realised. She’s never seen his defenses down like this. 

Marian isn’t sure if the heat on her face is from the wine or the embarrassment but she figures she should probably stop with the former anyway.

“I should go,” she manages.

Fenris blinks and looks away. Within a moment he has collected himself. 

“I... Perhaps I should walk with you.”

“What? You don’t need to do that.”

“The streets are dangerous. And you’ve been drinking. That puts you at a greater risk than usual.”

“You’re drunk too!”

He actually chuckles, a short quiet sound. “You noticed?”

Marian shakes her head. How does he manage to be so… charming isn't the right word. At least not in any way that’s deliberate because there’s something awkward about it too. Whatever it is he’s doing to her, she doesn’t need it. Not one bit. “This is just like that thing with the jacket. I don’t need you to keep getting all gentlemanly on me.”

He raises an eyebrow, and Marian sees the uncertainty beneath his amusement. “I was not aware that was what I was doing.”

Marian finds it’s easier to be sarcastic than to acknowledge that. “Oh, really?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t say it is something I particularly aspire to, nor is it how I expect people would usually describe me.”

“Yeah? Well, most people are dicks,” she answers, automatically. Apparently forgetting all about the point she had originally been trying to make. Suddenly, she’s angry. But not at Fenris. “Worse than that, when it comes to what’s been done to you. But you’re not like them. You’re a good person. If you hadn’t been treated so fucking abhorrently you might have had more opportunities to realise that.”

He stares at her and that’s what it takes for her to realise what she’s said. For a moment, she begins to panic. Then she thinks,  _ no. No, you know what? He should hear it _ . He’s gone too long without anyone on his side. Why shouldn’t he get to know how wrong she thinks that is?

But then he gets to his feet and she panics again.

Because, shit, the way he’s looking at her… she takes a step back. “I—I should go,” she says again. She manages to look away as she adds, “Don’t worry about walking me. I’ll be fine. Just need some fresh air to clear my head.”

She glances back at him but he’s still staring at her like he can’t believe she’s real. It’s too much.

“I’ll see you…” she mutters. “Soon.”

Then, there’s no other way of putting it, she runs. 

* * *

The walk helps with sobering up, if little else. By the time Marian gets home, she is thoroughly frustrated with herself. She lets herself in through the front door and has to stop herself from slamming it behind her in her bad mood. It’s only when she turns to head upstairs that she notices the light is on in the living room. She's surprised given that she's usually the only one who's up quite this late. She pushes open the door to find Garrett cuddled up with the dog on the sofa. The moment she enters, Dog looks up and quietly leaps down and slinks over to Marian, wagging his tail in silent apology for being on the furniture. 

“Hey!” Garrett complains.

“He's not supposed to be up there.”

“He was comforting me.”

Marian sighs. “Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not.”

Marian pauses, looking at her brother laid out pitifully on the sofa, reaching his hand out towards the dog in an attempt to coax him back. She knows she is about to regret it but she asks anyway. “Is it about Anders?”

He looks at her knowingly, as if to say ‘are you sure you want me to answer that?’

She urges Dog to return to Garrett's side and joins them on the sofa, shifting Garrett’s feet out of the way so that she can sit. She is pretty sure that she's only going along with this because it's better than thinking about whatever just happened with Fenris.

Considering her feelings on the subject of Garrett’s interest in Anders, that's really saying something.

“Anders and I broke into the Gallows and stole Karl's phylactery,” says Garrett.

“I'm sorry, you did what?”

“We broke into the Gallows.”

Marian stares. “When?”

“Earlier tonight.”

There is a moment of heavy silence while Marian tries to figure out if he’s joking. Then she asks, “Are you completely mad?”

Garrett has the audacity to shrug. “It went fine. We got the phylactery without being seen.”

“I don't care! This might be the stupidest thing you've ever done. What if you’d been caught? You know it wouldn't have been about making you sign up with the circle and being watched by a few templars. They would have arrested you! Do you really think this family could stand to lose anyone else?”

“Marian,” Garrett sits up now as he tries to appease her. “We were careful.”

Marian doesn't care. She is far from done. “And Anders too? Did you even think about what you were doing, putting him at risk? About how valuable he is to the people in this city? People like you and Bethany and Merrill? People who rely on him because no one else who can do what he does is willing to. And yet you would risk him?”

Garrett looks slightly shamed but not quite willing to back down. “You talk like he didn't agree to it. I didn't force him!”

“I bet it wasn't his idea though. This is exactly the sort of thoughtless scheme you’d have come up with.”

“It wasn't thoughtless! We had a plan. We were careful. We  _ succeeded! _ ”

“That doesn't make it any less stupid!” Marian doesn’t understand why he can’t seem to grasp this. But then, she can’t quite understand any of it. “What were you even hoping to get out of it? You find Karl and then what?”

Garrett glares at her. “I don't know. Hopefully Anders gets some peace of mind from it all. You know how upset he is not knowing what became of him.”

“And you? Am I really supposed to believe you're doing it all for nothing? Knowing how badly you want to get into his pants?” 

Garrett flushes but manages to look annoyed with the accusation. “That has nothing to do with this. He's my friend. And I can help him without having a selfish ulterior motive.”

Marian scoffs. “You've known him a month.”

“That doesn't mean I don't care about him. Can't I just simply want to help him because it's the right thing to do?” 

“Is it, though?” she hisses. “You heard what Fenris said. The most likely thing is, Anders lost Karl years ago and there isn’t going to be anything left of him to find.”

Garrett shakes his head. “We don’t know for certain.”

Marian wants to argue—but what’s the point? It’s not why she's angry anyway. She's just furious that they both took such a huge risk behind her back. She doesn't bother asking why they didn't tell her before. As she tries to calm down, that much becomes clear. She takes a breath then asks, “So you did it? You got the phylactery. You weren't caught. Why are you sulking?”

“It doesn't matter. I don't know why I thought I could talk to you.” He huffs like a child and looks over at Dog. The mabari left his side at some point during the argument to sulk over on the rug by the fire, clearly upset by Marian and Garrett's behaviour. “Come here boy. I'm sorry for shouting.” Dog just gives him a pitiful look without bothering to move. 

“You had to know I'd be angry about this. That's why you didn't tell me earlier.”

“Yes,” he mutters. He gives up trying to coax the dog back over to him and it's heavily back in his seat. “But how do you think it feels to have my motives questioned like that?” 

Marian frowns at him. “I know you're not a malicious person. I just wonder, if you're being completely honest, can you say you don't want more out of this?”

“I want more. But that's not why I'm helping him.” He sighs. “I don't know Marian. I didn't go into this expecting anything but there have been moments when I've wondered… tonight especially. I keep wondering if he feels the same. But maybe I'm just deluding myself. You were right, it's like I'm torturing myself on purpose.”

“He’d better not be stringing you along,” Marian grumbles.

“Do you really think he's like that?”

She pauses but the answer comes easily. “No. We might not have the most… easy relationship. But I know he's a good man.”

Garrett manages to muster a small smirk. “Yeah I noticed. What you said before is probably the nicest thing I've heard you say about him.”

“It doesn’t mean I think you should go there.” 

Garrett looks away. “It doesn't matter anyway. I've made my feelings clear and he's not interested. So that's that. I just need to get over it.”

Marian looks at her brother, from the pout on his lips to the way he slumped in his seat, muscular arms clutching a fluffy cushion to his chest, and she thinks that it doesn't look much like he's about to get over anything. She also can't help but think that if he was really determined to move on from this crush, he wouldn't be planning to stick around in Kirkwall. She won't say anything but that's how he's always dealt with his problems. If he doesn't like a situation, he takes off. If he's sticking around then he still has hope. Of that, she is quite certain.

Dog, finally trusting that the argument is over and sensing that Garrett is upset, gets up from his spot on the rug and approaches to place his head on Garrett’s lap. Garrett smiles a little and scratches him behind the ears.

“So,” he begins eventually. “Isabela said you were over at Fenris’ place tonight.”

Marian stiffens. “What about it?”

Garrett raises an eyebrow. “Do you really think I believe there's nothing going on there?”

“Garrett, he's a vampire.”

“He's a good vampire. An extremely attractive good vampire.”

Marian gives him an annoyed look. “Not you too.”

“He gave you his jacket. And I'm not the only one who noticed you exchanging those smoldering looks. Bela said you were doing it tonight as well.”

“We were doing no such thing.”

But Marian thinks of that one particular look Fenris gave her before she left and knows even as she says it that she’s lying.

Garrett notices. But before he can comment she snaps, “Enough. He's a vampire. I'm a hunter. It doesn't matter what you think you've seen because nothing can happen. It's ridiculous that you'd even speculate.”

“You trust him,” Garrett says, as though that changes anything.

She glares at him. “Please stop. You know it's impossible.”

Finally he seems to hear her. She can see him trying to come up with something comforting to say but that’s not what she wants either. In fact, she doesn't want to talk at all anymore. She just feels tired. The fuzzy warmth that came with the wine earlier has long gone and now there’s just a groggy unpleasantness in its place. “I'm going to bed,'' she tells Garrett. 

He lets her go, telling her good night. But she sees his worried look before she leaves the room. She puts it from her mind, along with the rest of the night’s unwanted feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so happy with all the lovely comments last chapter. Thank you everyone for reading this and everyone who has left some sort of response. It's really helping me to power through the editing process 💖


	19. Another spot of blood magic

It’s a slow day at the clinic, which is a relief given that Anders is exhausted after the events of the night before. He supposes it shouldn't be surprising if infiltrating the Gallows takes a lot out of him. Still, he offers Bethany the opportunity to go home early since there aren’t many patients to treat. He’s still slightly relieved when she declines. Knowing her, she can probably tell that he needs a break himself. He keeps to his desk while she sees the patients, only calling for help for a few of the more complicated cases. Anders takes the time to look over the manifesto he’s been working on whenever he has the time to spare. It might not have been the rest Bethany had in mind for him but at least it doesn't involve expending any mana. 

At some point in the late afternoon, Bethany answers a knock at the office door and seems surprised by whoever she sees in the waiting room. 

“Visitors,” she says to Anders by way of explanation. 

Anders gets up from his desk and goes to the waiting room where he finds Garrett and Merrill. Garrett gives one of those grins that he doesn’t think he’ll ever quite get used to. They always take him aback with how impossibly warm they feel. Besides him, Merrill gives him a cheerful wave. Bethany gives them a curious look, but there’s a patient waiting so she waves them in and leaves Anders to talk with Merrill and her brother. 

“This is a nice little setup.  _ Very  _ cozy.” Anders can’t always tell how sarcastic Garrett actually means to be when he’s wearing that smile that takes up half his face. “You’ve got a receptionist and everything!”

Anders takes in the way Lirene is frowning at Garrett and wonders what he might have said to her already. “Lirene, this is Garrett Hawke. And you’ve met Merrill before.”

Lirene nods to Merrill and raises her eyebrows at Garrett. “Another Hawke? Nice to meet you then. Your family has done a lot for this one.” She inclines her head towards Anders, who smiles awkwardly.

Garrett beams back at her. “That’s mostly my sisters’ doing. Though I’m doing what I can to catch up.” Anders folds his arms across his chest and raises an eyebrow at Garrett’s cheeky wink. He thinks he’s so bloody charming. And the worst part is how hard Anders has to try to not be completely drawn in by it.

Ignoring Garrett, he tells Lirene, “We might as well finish up here soon. If you want to take off early, it’s fine with me.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying to help close up.”

“It’s fine,” Anders insists. “I can rope these two into it now that they’re here.”

“Yeah, of course!” says Garrett eagerly. “Whatever you need. I’m your man.”

Anders fights back a smile at his enthusiasm as Lirene answers, “Well, alright, then. Tell Bethany bye for me.”

Once she’s gathered her things and gone, Anders says, “I thought the plan was to meet back at the house and go over things there.”

Garrett has a sudden awkward look about him. Merrill is just sitting over one of the waiting room chairs, flicking through a stack of magazines with a slight frown on her face. 

“About that,” says Garrett, “there was something I thought I should warn you about first.”

“What’s that,” asks Anders warily.

“So, um… I might have mentioned to Marian what we did last night.”

Anders stares at him. That is not good. “Why would you do that?” 

Garrett winces at his tone, which isn’t exactly angry but definitely strained. “I suppose I figured that since we succeeded she wouldn’t get that angry about it.”

“And I take it you thought wrong? Of course you did. Garrett, in what universe would she not be angry about that?” 

“Uh yes. Quite true, that. She was furious.”

Anders lets out a defeated sigh. Wonderful. He’s surprised he’s not received a visit from her already. It’s not like Hawke would ever hesitate to rail at him for putting one of her siblings in danger. Not that that’s something he makes a habit of. But he knows how protective of them she is.

“So what?” says Anders, rubbing a hand over his face. “Are you here to convince me to lay low for a while?” 

“What?” Garrett looks puzzled for a moment then laughs awkwardly. “Oh… no. I think it’s mostly me she’s angry with. You’d think I made the whole thing up on the spot and dragged you with me against your will to hear her go on about it.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I mean, that’s not to say she won’t still be angry with you but I think she got the worst of it out of her system last night. I just thought I’d come and give you a heads up anyway. It definitely wasn’t one of my better ideas, I’ll admit.”

“No. It really wasn’t.”

Garrett gives him a sheepish grin and Anders wonders just how often he gets away with things by giving that same look. Marian is most likely immune to it but Anders is not. Garrett is too cute to stay mad with. And no, he is not going to think of the implications of that particular thought right now. Though, the collection of unwanted thoughts involving Garrett that he’s had to shove to the back of his mind is growing uncomfortably large of late.

“I can’t believe she blamed you rather than me, though,” Anders comments, mostly to distract himself from that train of thought.

“Really? Because I absolutely can.”

Anders raises an eyebrow but chooses not to argue. “Sounds like things must have been bad last night if you’d rather go over things here than back at the house. I assume that’s why Merrill’s here too.”

At this, Merrill looks up from her magazine. “Oh, that’s not it. Garrett just wanted help finding his way here. Though, in retrospect, you might have been better asking Varric or Isabela.”

Garrett frowns. “Yes. It did take rather a lot longer than I would have thought to get here.”

“I’ve been getting better at finding my way around, though! I don’t even need a ball of string anymore.”

“A what?” says Garrett.

“Uh… never mind,” says Merrill, blushing.

“Right… Anyway, like I said, I mostly just came here to give you a heads up about the situation with Marian. We could talk here if you want but if you’re busy we can wait. I could help. I, um… have no skills that might be useful in this situation. I can cast a healing spell that will just about do in an emergency but that’s it really.”

Anders smiles. “Don’t worry about it. We’re just about finished here today. All that’s left to do is clean up.” 

“That I can do.”

“Are you sure?”

“That I can work a mop and bucket? Just about.” Anders laughs and Garrett does the same before adding, “I mean, yeah. You do this every day for free, right? It’s not going to hurt me to chip in a bit. That’s got me wondering, though. How do you keep running this place if you’re not getting paid for it? I mean, I know you’re not exactly getting government funding.”

“Donations,” Anders explains. “Most of which seem to come from Varric.”

“Good old Varric.”

“I suppose I’ve been lucky, between that and your sisters giving me a place to stay.” He smiles. “So... if you really want to help we might as well get started. The sooner we close up here, the sooner...” He takes a breath. “Well… we went to the trouble of getting it so we should probably put it to use.”

And Garrett looks just as encouraging as he always does. Anders focuses on that smile and feels slightly better already. He can do this. One step at a time. The first part, closing the clinic, is the easy part, which gives him something to focus on for now. The rest, he’ll deal with later.

* * *

When Bethany offers the three of them a lift after they’ve finished closing up, it makes sense to accept it and save the discussion of what to do next for when they get back to the house. Anders is relieved that Hawke is nowhere in sight when they arrive. Despite Garrett’s assurances, he’s not entirely sure she wouldn’t confront him about their reckless behaviour last night. Yet, they evade questioning for now and instead move to the library to discuss the next part of the plan.

Anders pulls the phylactery out from the pocket of his coat and holds it up on his palm for the others to see. Truthfully, he’s no more comfortable with the thought of using it now than he was when Garrett suggested the idea. It seems wrong. It is wrong that the object even exists in the first place. Now that Anders has it in his grasp, it would be so easy to destroy—and yet to do so he might as well give up on finding Karl at all. 

“How does it work?” asks Garrett. 

Anders isn’t exactly an expert on the subject. He’s been on the opposite end of the process several times after attempts to escape from the home he was forced into as a teenager but he’s certainly never used one himself. He has read about them though. The Warden Commander gave him a book on the subject back in Amaranthine. She was always giving out peculiar gifts like that. Anders never would have guessed how that one would end up coming in useful. He figures he knows enough to work it out now. After all, if a templar can do it…

“They’re supposed to glow,” he tells Garrett. “The closer you get to the mage you’re looking for, the brighter it gets.”

Anders stretches his arm out with the phylactery still balanced on the palm of his hand and turns slowly on the spot, testing. Nothing happens. His heart sinks.

“What does that mean?” asks Merrill. 

Anders can’t bring himself to look at either of them. He stares at the useless object in his hand, wondering what he’s supposed to do now. He hadn’t even wanted to use the damn thing. Not really. But to have the choice taken away from him. And after he’d finally begun to hope…

“It means…” Anders struggles with the words. “It—if the phylactery doesn’t work it’s because the mage is already dead.”

It means Karl is dead.

“That’s not necessarily it,” says Garrett quickly. When Anders doesn’t give his attention right away, Garrett places a hand on his arm and lightly squeezes. Anders’ gaze is finally drawn away from the object in his palm. “Vampires aren’t like humans, or elves. Not anymore. They have to die to become what they are and then it’s the demon keeping their body alive. Karl did die. Years ago. But that doesn’t mean he’s not still out there somewhere. Maybe phylacteries just don’t work for vampires.”

That sounds perfectly logical, actually. 

“I suppose that makes sense,” agrees Merrill. “It might explain why they kept Karl’s phylactery separate from the rest. Perhaps they knew what happened to him somehow and maybe they were trying to figure out a way to make it work again.”

Again, it makes sense. After all, if he were simply dead, why not just destroy the phylactery? 

“Great,” says Anders in a dull voice, “so now we’re just back exactly where we started.”

“No,” says Garrett, firmly. “We’re not. Merrill, do you think it’s possible? That we could get it to work again?”

“Oh. Probably. I mean, I know you don’t like blood magic much, Anders, but it does give us a lot more options.” Her eyes grow wide with sudden excitement. “Actually, I might have an idea! Remember the spell I used the other night? It was a modification of a scrying spell. But blood is the perfect thing to use with scrying. It gives the most accurate results. And we have Karl’s blood right here. I assume the phylactery isn’t working because its magic wore off when Karl’s life as a human ended. But for an entirely new spell I see no reason why it shouldn’t work. It should even be more efficient.”

“That’s true,” breathes Anders, hope beginning to flood through him once more. “Phylacteries only tell you which direction to walk in. If we could get an exact location on a map…”

“Then let’s just hope it doesn’t tell us to get on the next plane to the Anderfels,” says Garrett. “Though, I don’t know. It could definitely be worth a visit. I’ve never been there before.”

But Anders already feels his hope begin to drain from him. “I didn’t even think about that,” he says, defeated. “But you’re right. He could be anywhere. And most days I can barely scrape together enough to catch a bus, never mind buy a plane ticket.”

Garrett tries to reassure him, “Don’t worry. We can figure that part out when we come to it.”

“But is there even any point? Even if he only went as far as Ferelden, or another part of the Free Marches, I have no means of travel. And I couldn’t leave the clinic anyway.”

The look Garrett gives him is calm, comforting despite how hopeless Anders feels. “I’m sure Bethany would be happy to look over the clinic for a few days. And I have some savings that could cover travel expenses.”

Anders frowns. “Why would you do that?”

Garrett just shrugs. “I was only saving up to travel anyway. And besides, some things are more important. It’s fine. I live cheaply when I travel and work when I can. That’s how I keep doing it.”

“But—but you earned that.” Anders doesn’t get it. Garrett just keeps giving and giving. Doesn’t he have a limit?

“And you work harder than anyone I know and ask nothing for it. If anyone deserves the favour it’s you. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. We need to know where we’re going first.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” says Merrill, who has been watching the exchange with raised eyebrows and a small smile on her lips. “All we need is the phylactery and a map of Thedas.”

“Which we should have here somewhere,” answers Garrett, turning to the shelves behind them. 

The library the Hawke siblings inherited from their grandparents is certainly an impressive one. Anders has always meant to make better use of it but with all the time he spends at the clinic he hardly seems to find the opportunity. It comes in useful now, as the three of them gather what they need for Merrill’s next spell. 

They set up in a space on the floor by the fire with several maps of various parts of Thedas piled beside them. Merrill pulls the first one they need, a large world map, and spreads it out on the rug.

“I should say before we begin,” she tells them. “Once we’ve used the blood from the phylactery for the spell, that’s it. We only have one chance at this.”

“And then the phylactery will be destroyed?” asks Anders. 

“Effectively, yes,” says Merrill.

Anders nods. Good. Somehow, sacrificing the blood from the phylactery feels a lot more palatable than using it the way a templar would. Even if it is technically blood magic. Only technically, though. And it’s not as though anyone has to be hurt for the spell to work.  _ No demons involved _ , he thinks but Justice seems to have gathered that already because he can’t sense any real objection from the spirit. 

“Then let’s begin.”

Merrill pries off the seal from the phylactery with the blade of her knife and manages to do so without spilling any of the contents. Then, with a look of concentration, she begins working her magic on the blood inside. She draws a small amount of it out, causing it to float in a few small red globules in the air, then she passes the rest to Anders. There’s still about half of the blood left inside and with the seal broken he has to hold onto it to keep it from spilling. 

Merrill holds her hands on either side of the small globe of blood hovering before them in mid air. It pulses for a moment, illuminated by the magic, then it begins to move. Slowly, it lowers onto the surface of the map the three of them have gathered around. It travels a little way along and then comes to a stop above a familiar location. Kirkwall.

They all wait a moment to see if there’s some mistake, if the blood marker will move any further. But it doesn’t. They have their answer.

“He’s… here?” Anders says, baffled. “Has he been here all this time?”

“Well, that makes things a bit easier,” says Merrill.

“Is there a map of Kirkwall in there?” Anders asks, gesturing to the pile beside Garrett. Garrett shuffles through the stack of papers and eventually pulls one out. With a wave of her hand, Merrill dissolves the blood marker and with another pulse of magic it disappears into nothing. Garrett places the second map atop the first and Anders passes the phylactery back to Merrill. He’s feeling all the more nervous now, wondering if they might have got this wrong somehow and it’s not Karl’s location they’re being shown at all. But Merrill doesn’t seem worried as she repeats the spell with the last of the blood. It happens the same way, the blood travels up into the air and then down over the map, coming to a stop somewhere around the outskirts of town.

So close.

Anders doesn’t know what he feels. For years he’d had no idea where Karl might be, imagined him lost to the far reaches of Thedas, somewhere Anders could never hope to follow. And now to find that he could take a car and be where Karl is tonight if he wanted. Flames, he could walk there if he fancied the exercise. 

What does it mean?

What has Karl been doing all this time?

“I need to go there,” he says quietly.

“Tonight?” says Garrett, alarmed.

“It has to be tonight,” Anders tells him. “We have no other way of tracking him and for all we know he could be gone by tomorrow.”

“I realise that but… are you certain? I mean, are you ready?”

Anders shakes his head. “It’s been five years since I last saw him. In that time I’ve had no idea where he was, what he’s been doing, if he’s even the same person I once knew. Of course I’m not ready. But what choice do I have? If this opportunity slips past me and I missed it because I was too scared, how could I live with that?”

Garrett’s eyes don’t leave Anders’ as he takes a breath and seems to accept his words.

“I found it,” says Merrill. She has her phone out, already having searched the location. “It’s very posh.”

“It’s what?” says Anders, shifting to get a better look at the screen. But she’s right. They’re looking at a satellite image of a manor house on a farm outside the city. He can’t think of what Karl would be doing in a place like that. Merrill takes her phone back and starts tapping away on it, looking for more information. 

“It was for sale until recently. But I can’t find anything about who bought it. Sounds like vampires to me.”

“A clan, then,” says Garrett.

Anders nods without taking his eyes off the point on the map where Karl’s blood has settled. He can’t see any other reason why Karl would be in a place like that. But he wonders what it means that they seem to have only recently acquired the place. Potentially legally, rather than simply squatting as most vampires tend to do. He wonders if it is possible that he’s been away from Kirkwall all these years. Now that he has returned, could he intend to seek Anders out? He could have already been looking. Anders the ex circle mage isn’t easy to find, he’s made sure of that. Those who need him know to look for the Darktown Healer. But Karl has never known him by that alias.

“I’m going,” Anders says.

“Okay.” Garrett looks like he’s thinking fast. “Okay, we should bring Marian.”

Anders shakes his head. “No.”

“Anders, we don’t know what’s waiting at that house. How many there might be.”

“I know that Karl is a good man. That when he left me he would have wanted to learn how to control what he’d become. Don’t you think it’s possible he found some like minded clan? If I showed up there with a vampire hunter, I couldn’t expect them to trust me.”

He does know how he sounds and to Garrett’s credit he is clearly trying. But it still seems to be a little too much to accept. 

“I hope that’s true,” Garrett says, “I really do. But there’s no way you can know it. You can’t just expect to roll up there, knock on the front door and ask for Karl and everything is going to work out. You can’t just presume that.”

“I know. I’m not. But that’s why it has to be me. Not Marian. If anything goes wrong I have Justice to protect me. I’ll be fine.”

Garrett looks unappeased by this but he’s never seen Justice in action. Anders hopes he never will. “I can’t talk you out of it, can I? Okay, fine. I’m coming too.”

“I can’t ask you to—” begins Anders but Garrett cuts him off. 

“We’ve come this far working together. I’m not going to abandon you now.”

Anders isn’t given a chance to come up with a response to that because at that point the door to the library swings open, startling him. He turns his head and suddenly Hawke is there, frowning down at the three of them.

“What’s going on in here?” she asks, looking between them and perhaps noticing from their expressions that she has interrupted a slightly charged moment. 

Anders glances back at the others uncertain of how to answer. It’s only then that Garrett drags his eyes from Anders with obvious reluctance and answers, “Nothing. What do you want, Marian?”

“I’ve got a job,” she answers. “Could do with some magical assistance and look here, it’s my best three mages in one convenient place. Seriously, what are you three up to?”

“Blood magic,” Garrett mutters. 

Anders winces. “That’s not—we weren’t…”

“Well, we kind of were,” says Merrill. “Technically.”

Anders sighs and looks up at Hawke, waiting for her to pass judgement. For his hypocrisy, if nothing else. She raises an eyebrow. “Okay,” she says, drawing the word out slowly. Then she shakes her head. “Whatever. Look, can you help me or not?”

“What is it, Hawke?” Merrill asks.

“A favour for Isabela. Did she ever mention that Castillon guy to you?”

“Err—no.”

“Really?”

“Why? Should she have?”

“I just figured, since you and her…”

Merrill gives Hawke a puzzled look. “Since we? Oh! Isabela and I aren’t together. Not in, you know, the traditional way.” She must notice the doubtful looks she gets because she goes on, “I mean, she’s wonderful. I care about her very much but that’s not really her thing is it? Relationships, I mean. Though I wonder why she wouldn’t tell me about this person if he’s important. We are friends after all. Friends who—well, you know…”

Hawke opens her mouth then closes it before shaking her head. “We’re getting off topic. Isabela asked me to help her take down an old employer of hers. She thinks he has business in Kirkwall but doesn’t know where he is. She’s managed to track down one of his men, though. So that’s where we’re going tonight. I’m not really sure what’s in store so best to be prepared. Are you guys in?”

Garrett and Merrill’s eyes turn to Anders. He hesitates. “Do you need all of us?” 

“I guess not? I don’t really know. I just figured since you’re all here… Why? Okay, you know what, can you actually just tell me what’s going on? I mean, blood magic? Seriously?”

There is a heavy pause and Anders decides it would probably be best to tell her the truth. “I know where Karl is. We—Merrill—performed a spell using the blood from Karl’s phylactery. He’s in Kirkwall.”

Hawke’s frown deepens as he speaks. “Okay… Can you wait to go after him? Only this whole thing with Isabela kind of depends on us being there at a certain time.”

Anders shakes his head. “I only know where he is right now. I have no idea how long he’s going to stay there. So unless this thing is life or death… I’m going, Hawke. Tonight.”

It’s entirely obvious that Hawke isn’t happy. But Anders isn’t going to budge. She sighs. “Okay. What about the rest of you?”

Considering how easily she gives in, Anders figures she hasn’t guessed the part where they think Karl is holed up with some vampire clan. Or he doubts she’d have let it go without a fight. He looks at Garrett to see if he’ll give it away but all he says is, “I’m going with Anders. Someone should.”

Marian frowns at him and he manages a weak grin in return. “Hey, it’ll be fine. Moral support is my specialty.”

Anders doesn’t get a chance to try to figure out which exact part Hawke disapproves of this time because Merrill pipes up with, “If you need a mage then I can come. And you could always ask Bethany too.”

“Thank you, Merrill,” Hawke answers, dragging her gaze from her brother. “One mage should be enough. This guy shouldn’t be expecting us…” She looks back to Anders, “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I know I said I would help you…”

Anders shakes his head. “It’s fine. I wasn't going to ask you to come anyway.” He musters up a wry smile. “I was a little worried that showing up with a vampire hunter in tow might give the wrong impression.”

Her frown doesn’t lift but she agrees more easily than he would have guessed. “That makes sense, I suppose… Just please don’t take any risks. If anything goes wrong, call me.” She looks at Garrett, who nods.

He turns to Anders. “You want to do this now?”

Anders finds he can’t speak but he inclines his head slightly. Garrett seems to understand. It’s not exactly an enthusiastic affirmative but it’s not as though putting it off is going to make it any easier. Or possible, in this case.

They get the address from Merrill then meet at the door once they’re ready to go. Anders doesn’t feel any less sickeningly nervous but even though it’s selfish, and it’s putting Garrett at risk, he can’t help but feel grateful that he’s not doing this alone. Moral support, he’d said. It’s possible Anders is going to need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is a bit later than usual. I suppose I must have needed a break last week because I didn't even look at this chapter until Monday. I started another new Inquisition playthrough and got a bit hooked playing that instead. I wish I could say that I'll be quicker with the next update but... I haven't written it yet. When I was writing the original draft of this story I had a better idea of what was going to happen in the chapter after the next one so I just skipped ahead to that one so I wouldn't lose momentum. I always meant to come back fill in the missing chapter but... here we are. Hopefully I won't get too stuck on it! I'm already excited about the next part of the story. We're coming up to the climax of this arc soon and I can't wait to share it with you all!
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading and for all the lovely comments!


	20. Nobody fucks with the Kirkwall Crew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait everyone! The next chapter will definitely be up a lot faster (because I already started working on it while I was procrastinating on this one.) Got a bit of action for you this time. Or should I call it bloody violence? Hmm... Anyway, enjoy!

Isabela picks Fenris up from outside his mansion. It had been a surprise when he got the call from Hawke saying that Isabela had found a lead on Castillon’s whereabouts already. Fenris had originally been planning to head out and hunt before doing anything else tonight but now it seems that will have to wait. The meeting they plan to intercept is taking place at the docks and Isabela wants to be sure they’ll make it there on time. She’s even offered to drive them there, despite the group’s usual habit of walking everywhere within the main parts of the city. It’s only about an hour after dark when she comes to Fenris and they immediately go on to Hawke’s place to pick up her and Merrill.

Fenris has been thinking about Hawke more than he feels comfortable admitting. When they spoke on the phone earlier, their conversation was brief. No mention was made of their talk last night but Fenris has been struggling to get it out of his head ever since. Hawke does not go often out of her way to speak kindly to people, even those she likes. In fact, she often gives the impression that she would prefer for people to think her the opposite. It is something she fails almost entirely at pulling off. It is far too easy to be drawn in by that side of her and Fenris has found himself trusting her more than he ever expected to. But now there’s something else in her that he finds himself drawn to with an intensity that he cannot quite comprehend. It is that fire and fury that he has seen burning in her on so many occasions. 

And last night… 

He wants to put it from his mind but then Hawke appears at the doorway to her house and try as he might to keep the feeling at bay, it is no use. It comes flooding back to him. Hopeless as it all may be.

She looks at him and there is nothing of that discomfort he saw last night left in her expression. He wonders if she has hidden it, or if he could have imagined it all. She climbs into the car, taking the seat directly behind him and Fenris is hit suddenly by the scent of her. The Demon in him stirs. It’s not unusual in itself but the intensity of it happening in the confined space of Isabela’s car is very different to whenever it has happened in the heat of battle. He keeps it under control but thinks to himself all the same that it is no wonder she reacted to him the way she did last night. What mortal would welcome such attention?

He should have fed before joining them, even with the time constraints, he should have found a way. He knows of suppliers of blood within the city and should have had something to hand for an emergency. It isn’t right that he should be fending off such thoughts in the presence of these mortals who have grown to trust him.

The Dalish girl, Merrill, follows Hawke into the car and he barely registers her cheerful greeting as they begin to pull away from the house. Nobody seems to notice. 

Or so he thinks, until Isabela says to him, “You seem especially broody tonight.” 

The statement surprises him from his thoughts as he realises it is directed at him. He looks up to see Isabela smirking at the road ahead and realises that denying the accusation is pointless. Doing so in the past has only ever made her insist upon it harder. Instead, he pushes back the thoughts that have been troubling him and asks dryly, “Does it bother you? Should I stop?”

“No,” she answers, throwing a quick smirk in his direction. “But could you add some smouldering to the routine? Just for me?”

“Isabela,” Hawke interrupts, her tone irritable.

“Oh, alright,” says Isabela, rolling her eyes. “For Hawke, then. I suppose I can still enjoy these things vicariously.”

“Or you could keep your eyes on the road,” Hawke snaps.

“Why am I not surprised that you’re the possessive type?”

“That’s— _ not _ what I meant!” 

Fenris can’t help it, his gaze falls to the wing mirror and he sees Hawke scowling back at him. Or perhaps just scowling in general. He’s usually a lot better at responding to Isabela’s quips but Hawke’s own awkward response throws him. 

Isabela doesn’t seem to mind. “But it’s what _ I _ meant,” she drawls, sounding far too pleased with herself. 

“What did you mean, Isabela?” asks Merrill. “Why do I feel as though I’ve missed something?  _ Again _ .”

“I might have to explain that one later, Kitten. When I can’t feel Hawke’s glare burning holes into the back of my skull.” 

Fenris almost feels as though he could use the explanation himself. Though he knows better than to ask for it. He’s frustrated that he let himself become flustered. Whatever Isabela’s insinuation, whether she suspects something happened between them the night before, or something else entirely, it would have been better to brush it off. He can’t help but feel his hesitation, and Hawke’s too, has only given her further ammunition to use against them. 

This isn’t the time to think about it, he thinks. But Hawke is right there, even just the scent of her is far more overpowering than either of the other two women sharing the car with them. What can she be thinking? He wants to know. Why did she run last night?

By the time they reach their destination, he’s just about managed to pull himself together. It won’t do to let his thoughts remain in such disarray if they’re about to walk into a fight. And Fenris is certain that is what this will come to. 

Fenris has become quite familiar with the Kirkwall Docks since he arrived in the city a few months ago. Even before meeting Hawke he’d already managed to pinpoint it as a hotspot for vampire activity. Most of the area Hawke manages to keep clear and safe enough for the workers—though most trade seems to happen only in daylight hours when safety is assured. But there’s one small quarter, conveniently located near the entrance to Darktown, that is all but abandoned even during the day. Locals know to avoid it, and any vampire caught out of the bounds of this area by Hawke knows the consequence will be a stake to the heart. That is, any vampire lucid enough to know anything beyond their own hunger. Hawke kills a lot of vampires, all of them long driven mad by their thirst and by their demon’s inability to adapt to this side of the veil. But there are others too, lurking where Hawke knows better than to go looking for them. 

“I wonder why you haven’t just charged in and taken care of them all already,” says Isabela as they approach the area in her car. “That seems more like your usual style.”

“It would make my job easier if I could,” Hawke mutters, “but it’s not about what’s ideal, it’s what I can do without getting myself or my friends killed. If I wanted to get in there I’d need a larger force but the city guard doesn't have that kind of training and I can’t risk working with the Templars. It was bad enough waiting for them to lose interest in us after Carver…” she breathes out heavily through her nostrils the way she often seems to at any mention of her younger brother. Fenris feels the mixture of grief and anger roll off her every time.

“Aveline helped you out with that though, didn’t she? The two of you seem to be on good enough terms. Why not tell her to give her guard some decent training?”

“I’ve suggested it. It’s a funding issue, apparently. That, and vampires are the Templars' jurisdiction.” Hawke rolls her eyes.

“So basically we’re fucked then,” Isabela says dryly. “Well, never mind, I trust you all know how to be sneaky by now. I would like to get through this without being killed or captured.” 

Thankfully, the building they need to get to is somewhere on the outskirts of vampire territory, an abandoned office building, attached to a warehouse on the waterfront. There’s a decent chance of them getting in and out without attracting too much attention. Isabela’s sources say that this Hayder is meeting with one of Kirkwall’s many dock workers. It’s not certain yet whether the location means vampire involvement or if it’s just conveniently out of the way of dock security. No doubt getting caught meeting with the likes of Hayder would lose this man his job. If there are vampires involved then Fenris feels reasonably confident that between the four of them they can handle it. 

The streets are quiet in this part of town, save for the occasional passing car. Isabela parks a few streets away from their destination and they make their way there on foot. They find the meeting place guarded by a large but lone figure, hooded so that their features are obscured from this distance. It’s clear that charging into the open would only alert those inside to their presence but Isabela has no qualms taking the lookout on alone. With a confident smirk, she slips out of sight. The building is situated in an open area that provides little cover beyond the darkness itself but this seems to be no problem for her. She melts into it and even Fenris has trouble tracking her until she reappears behind her target and takes him down with a fistful of knockout powder. 

She creeps silently over to a window through which a low light is visible. Even from here, Fenris can see that the blinds are drawn, obscuring whoever is inside but Isabela seems confident that they have remained undetected for now. She beckons the rest of the group to join her. 

A closer look at the figure now slumped on the floor proves something Fenris had suspected. This is a vampire. And from the scent, he can tell there is at least one more within the building. It is unlikely that the knockout powder will work as effectively on a vampire as it would a human and Hawke wastes no time crouching low and staking the unconscious figure through the heart, allowing them no time to stir and alert those inside.

From what Fenris can sense, there are not many in there. Between the four of them, and with the element of surprise on their side, they should have no problems. Fenris nods at Isabela to confirm this and she turns to test the door. Unlocked. This is already proving far more simple than they had expected. Still, Fenris will not let his guard down and remains cautious as they enter the building. 

He was not far off in his estimates of how many would be inside. There are five humans and a vampire, on alert at last, clearly having heard them make their entrance. The vampire charges first and Hawke rushes forward to meet her. Whoever these people are, they had not counted on their meeting being interrupted by a hunter. The vampire, unprepared for the punch Hawke lands on the side of her jaw, or the kick she follows it up with, stumbles back as Hawke lifts her stake and strikes. The human mortals look on in shock as their vampire bodyguard falls to the floor as nothing more than dust, not even allowed a moment to try to defend them.

“You really make that look too easy,” says Isabela before turning her attention to the group of stunned humans. “Hello Hayder.”

“Isabela,” sneers the leader of the small group. He’s flanked on either side by a man and a woman, both of whom are still looking rather worriedly at Hawke. The final human looks the most terrified of all, he’s backed up against the far wall. Not one of Hayder’s men then, Fenris guesses. This must be the dock worker they’re here to meet with. “I’m surprised you’d show your face after what you pulled with Castillon. What are you doing here?”

“That’s what I came here to ask you.”

“It’s no business of yours. You walked out remember? With cargo that didn’t belong to you. Castillon will be pleased to hear you’ve been found.”

Isabela laughs. “Which one of us did the finding again? The only way Castillon’s finding out about this is when you tell me where he is so I can go there myself and kill him.”

At that, Hayder signals and the thugs on either side of him move. Fenris responds without hesitation. They only need one of them alive to talk, after all. He steps in front of Isabela, lighting his markings and kills them both in quick succession, tearing at each of their throats with his lyrium lit fists. It’s supposed to look like a vampire attack after all. Though this does present its own problem; the scent of fresh blood irritates the Demon. It wants to feed and watching two perfectly healthy mortals die right in front of it feels like nothing but a waste. They both drop and the weapons they had been too slow to draw, clatter to the floor along with them.

By now Hayder has drawn his own gun. He fires a few quick rounds but none of them meet their targets, deflecting instead off a barrier spell, hastily thrown up by Merrill. Perhaps there is some merit after all to Hawke’s insistence on working with mages. The bullets had been wooden and might well have done harm should they have met their target. It seems Hayder is not a complete idiot after all. Still, he is too slow for Fenris, who draws on the full power of his lyrium brands to ghost across the short distance between them. He disarms the man with ease, tossing the weapon well out of harm’s way.

Hayder is left looking torn between fear and anger. Fenris keeps his grip on his wrist, hard enough to hurt, and says, “You are overpowered. If you wish for this to go smoothly then I suggest you answer my companion’s questions.” 

Fenris waits to see if he’ll try to attack again but though he appears enraged by the deaths of his people, he makes no move to. Fenris lets go and moves back so that Isabela might take over and find the answers she needs. She seems entirely unfazed by the violence in front of her. In fact, when Fenris turns to look at her, she’s smirking. “Perhaps you’d like to try that answer again.”

“I tell you where he is and he’ll kill me.”

“Well, if you don’t tell me where he is,  _ Fenris _ will kill you. So it looks as though your best chance for survival is to tell me then get the first plane out of Kirkwall without mentioning a word of it to your boss. Doesn’t that sound reasonable?”

That wasn’t quite what Fenris had agreed to. The man is a slaver and he wants him dead. But Fenris can concede that Isabela’s methods are probably more likely to get results than threats alone. 

Hayder’s eyes slide back towards Fenris. He knows he need make no effort to look threatening with the blood still dripping from his hands and the hate he feels just knowing how this man makes his living.

“Alright! Alright, I’ll tell you! Just don’t let that thing near me,” Hayder exclaims, sufficiently intimidated at last. Fenris curls his lip at the insult. He is not making Fenris want to kill him any less.

“Start talking,” he sneers.

Hayder looks at Isabela, who raises an eyebrow. “You heard the man.”

“We’ve been working with one of the vampire clans round here. Made a deal with them for protection in exchange for fresh blood. We give them a portion of our wares and send the rest on to Tevinter.”

Hawke speaks up for the first time, “Where exactly is this operation taking place?”

“We’ve got a house. Outside of Kirkwall. Big place. I’ll give you the address. You won’t miss it.”

Hawke gestures to a desk at the back end of the room. “Write it down.”

He turns, heading for the desk and Fenris, not trusting the man for a moment, follows him over there. He watches as Hayder searches the drawers for a pen and paper and after locating both, begins to write. Isabela appears and places her hands on the desk, leaning over to see what Hayder is writing. “This had better be the right place, Hayder. I won’t go so easy on you if it turns out you’re lying I have to track you down somewhere else.”

“This is it,” Hayder says, pushing the paper across the desk to Isabela. “Now call off your hound and let me go.”

Isabela grabs the paper to inspect it and tuts, “Now that’s just rude.” 

“We are in agreement there,” says Fenris. Seeing that Isabela seems satisfied with what she has read, he steps in front of Hayder as he tries to make his move towards the door. Hayder looks at him in fear.

“That’s not—”

Fenris doesn’t give him the chance to finish. He grabs the man’s throat, letting his fingers pass through the flesh and ripping open the artery. There is a rush of blood and then he falls to the floor, dead. 

Isabela raises her eyebrows. “Not quite part of the plan…”

Fenris shrugs and flicks the excess blood from his fingers. “We have no way of discerning whether he was telling the truth. Who’s to say he would not run to Castillon and warn him that we are coming?”

“Hm. Good point.” 

In the time they were distracted, Hawke has prevented the last man from making a run for it. She grips him by the arm and is unmoved by his attempts to pull away as she looks to the dead man at Fenris’ feet and comments, “Lovely. More corpses. You know this is exactly why I don’t kill mortals.” Fenris raises an eyebrow at her and she rolls her eyes. “Among other reasons. What do we even do with them?”

“It was a vampire attack. We’re in vampire territory. These things happen.” Isabela looks at the man Hawke is still restraining. “What I’m wondering is what do we do with  _ him _ ?” 

“I’m not with them!” the man pleads. “I swear I’m just—they wanted a boat. They were willing to pay me to smuggle cargo out of the city. I didn’t know they were slavers!”

“Why don’t I believe you?” drawls Hawke.

“I think the vampire accomplices are the main giveaway,” says Isabela.

“It’s true!” the man insists.

Fenris can muster no pity for him. “And what about when the time came to load your ship and the cargo turned out to be elves and refugees? Would you have turned the money down or looked the other way?”

His eyes are wide and though his hesitation is short, it is all Fenris needs to see the truth. This man is not the innocent he pretends to be. It takes Fenris a second to cross the room and grab him by the neck. As far as he’s concerned he is as much a slaver as the others. The world is better rid of him. And now the Demon inside him has had enough of killing and getting nothing out of it. It wants to feed. The feeling is getting strong enough that Fenris isn’t sure how much he cares about hiding that from the others any more. “Leave him to me,” he tells Hawke, as his eyes darken, focusing on the pulse in the terrified man’s neck. 

Hawke watches him and at this moment Fenris honestly isn’t sure what he’ll do if Hawke doesn’t agree with this. For a moment he thinks that might be the case but then she nods and tells the others. “Let’s go and wait outside.”

He doesn’t catch the looks on their faces as they go, too intent on retaining control of his thirst until he hears the door close behind them. Then he does not wait another moment to strike.

Once he’s done, and has licked all traces of blood from his lips, he joins the others outside the building. 

“My apologies that you had to see that,” he tells the women. Now that the thirst has subsided, his worries over their opinion of him have returned. His vampire nature is at odds with so much of what Hawke stands for. He does not want her to compare him to those she hunts. He’s never noticed it before, how much he wants to be worthy of her friendship. He peers uncertainly at her and he cannot read the look she gives him in return.

Merrill only regards him curiously, while Isabela is the first to speak, surprising him with how unconcerned she sounds. “You know, if anything it makes the whole vampire attack thing we were going for look much more believable.”

“I suppose it does.” Fenris hadn’t quite thought of that.

When he turns back to Hawke, something about her expression has changed. “Are you feeling better?” she asks him.

“Yes,” he answers carefully. “Though I should have made sure of that before I joined you.”

Hawke shrugs. “Isabela does have a point. You might well have done us a favour.”

There is no judgement in her words and it is a relief to hear. He is surprised to realise how much it would have hurt to be rejected by her. It is not the kind of thought Fenris is at all accustomed to. 

“What’s our next move?” Hawke asks Isabela. “Do you want to scope this place out tonight?”

“Maybe? I’m all for getting this over with but it occurs to me now that if there’s a whole vampire clan there protecting him, that definitely complicates matters.” Isabela lets out a long breath through her nose, sounding frustrated. “We don’t even know for certain if he gave us the right address.”

“The best way to find out is to look, right?”

“Right. Okay, let’s do it.” She turns to Merrill. “Kitten, my phone’s likely to die at any minute. Would you look the address up on yours for me?”

Isabela holds out the square of paper and Merrill takes it with a cheery, “Of course.” She immediately begins tapping away at her phone only to stop a moment later, frowning at the paper in her hand. “Um… you know I’m beginning to think he might have given us the right address after all. At least, there’s very likely a vampire clan living there.”

“You've been there before?” asks Hawke warily.

“Oh, no. But Garrett and Anders have. Or, I mean, that’s where they’ve gone. Tonight. Looking for Karl.” Merrill peers up at them with wide worried eyes. “This is the same address I gave them.” 


	21. Almost a plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this at the weekend to make up for the long wait for the last chapter but I ended up getting distracted. I've added an 'unhealthy relationships' tag. I'm not sure if that's the best way of phrasing what's going on here (I'm just bad at tagging okay) but it seemed safer to give a heads up in case that's going to be a problem for anyone. We've also got a lovely mix of tension and questionably timed humour, some angst and a sprinkling of random NPCs recycled for use as bad guys. Nice.

“One positive thing that’s come from tonight, so far,” Garrett begins, breaking the silence that has been hovering over him and Anders since they got into the car together at least ten minutes ago, “at least between the whole ‘we’ve found Karl’ revelation and whatever’s going on with Isabela, Marian didn’t have time to even mention our little trip to the Gallows yesterday.”

Anders glances at him with half a smile, which is all he can manage at the moment. They’ve reached the outskirts of the city now and his anxiety is growing with every mile. He appreciates Garrett’s attempt to take his mind off things in a distant sort of way. Anders guesses that his nervousness must be palpable. Throughout the drive, every traffic light they stop at, Garrett has been shooting looks at him, visibly torn between trying to help and giving him space. Anders isn’t sure which he’d rather. 

“Well, as long as there’s that,” he says, attempting to allow the distraction. “Though I’m certain it will come up at some point.”

“Still, I figure the longer it takes, the less you have to worry about.”

Anders makes a half-hearted noise of affirmation.

They aren’t far off now. He can see from the sat nav on Garrett’s phone that they’re only about a mile away. 

He doesn’t know if he’s ready for this. If he’s more hopeful or terrified. He suspects the fact that he has found any resolve at all might be Justice’s doing more than Anders alone. 

He thinks about seeing Karl again and it doesn’t seem like something that can really happen. It could so easily be a mistake. Some magical anomaly.

The sat nav tells them their destination is on the left. Garrett keeps driving, looking for a less obvious place to park the car than in front of the large gates through which Anders has just a second to notice a long driveway. They don’t go far. In fact they park only a little way down the road, close enough that they won’t have far to go should they need to make a hasty retreat. The high walls surrounding the estate obscure the vehicle from view. 

“How do we do this?” Garrett asks.

“I… have no idea.”

“Alright. I know I was somewhat dismissive of this idea before but what if we did just try knocking and asking?”

Anders stares at him. “I mean… that sounds like the opening to a horror film. But go on?”

“ _ Yeah? _ Okay, yeah, I get that. But think about it. Merrill said the house was recently sold. So who dealt with the estate agent? There must be someone there who’s not just going to try and eat us on sight.”

Anders can’t quite believe he’s having this conversation and yet he finds himself uttering, “What if they ate the estate agent?”

“Anders? Can we try for at least a little bit of optimism? It was your idea to come out here, after all.”

Of course. Because Garrett’s input has been entirely sensible and reassuring so far.

“Right…” Anders forces himself to breathe. “Optimism is good… So, option one is to knock on the front door and ask if Karl is home.” He doesn’t know whether he wants to laugh or be sick. It feels so unreal. Surely there’s no way it can be that simple. “Then just hope whoever answers isn’t an estate agent eating maniac.”

“Right.” 

Anders tries to think of a second plan but it feels like grasping at straws. 

“Option two… We could stake the place out and see if Karl shows himself.”

“Which could take Maker knows how long.”

“True…”

Garrett looks uncertain. “I don’t want to sound as though I’m anything other than one hundred percent invested in my supportive role here but usually I bring snacks to stake-outs.”

Anders doesn’t even bother to ask. Somehow it makes perfect sense that stake-outs are a thing Garrett feels familiar enough with to have a usual way of going about them.

“What’s in the glove compartment?” Garrett asks. 

Anders gives him a look  but ends up humouring him anyway.  “There’s a packet of sherbet lemons.”

Garrett wrinkles his nose. “What is Bethany’s problem?”

“Can we focus?”

“Uh, yeah. Of course. What I’m thinking is that we don’t seem to have a huge amount of options.”

“That’s the impression I’m getting too.” Anders sighs. “Alright. Take the car back to the gate. If we’re doing this, we’re giving up all attempts at subtlety anyway.”

“Option one?” Garrett asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Option one.”

Garrett turns the car around and heads back towards the gate. As he pulls up next to it he says, “If this goes badly—I mean, if we’re attacked, we take out as many as we can and we get the fuck out of here. Sound good?”

“Sure... Great.” Anders stares up, past the huge iron gate, to the house where Karl supposedly now resides. “I mean, it’s almost a plan.”

He still feels a bit sick, to be honest. But now he also feels an odd rush or determination come over him and he’s surprised to find Justice endorsing this sort of recklessness. Or perhaps, with Justice’s rather loose grasp on mortality, it really doesn’t seem that reckless to him at all. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe it really is just as simple as heading over to the intercom by the gate and  _ asking _ . 

Anders opens the car door and gets out. He takes a few steps forward then hears the door on Garrett’s side close too. He glances around and sees Garrett give a small smile of encouragement before heading around to wait by the hood of the car. Anders turns back to the intercom, takes a few steps closer then stops. Then he thinks,  _ just do it _ . He raises his hand and presses the call button. 

A moment passes before there’s any answer. Then there’s a crackle and a voice comes through. “This is private property. If you don’t have an appointment then you’re trespassing. I’d advise you to leave now.”

Not the most friendly welcome but it could definitely be worse. 

“I’m looking for Karl,” Anders manages. Though for a moment there, he didn’t think he would. Manage. His throat feels ready to close up on itself. 

“Who?” comes the voice on the intercom.

“Karl. Karl Thekla. Is he here?” Anders’ hands are clenched into fists at his sides.

“What do you want with him? Who are you?”

There must have been some large part of Anders that had been expecting whoever was on the other side of that speaker to tell him he had the wrong place because now he feels a sickly rush of adrenaline as he begins to believe he might have been wrong.

“I—My name is Anders. I’m…” Maker, how does he get across who he is to Karl to some faceless stranger over an intercom. Who is he? An ex? That doesn’t even cover half of it. “I’m an old friend. If you tell him, he’ll know.” He has to know. He has to remember. 

“You got an arrangement to be here? An appointment?”

“No. But I—”

“Look mate, I’m not sure how you found out about this place but it’s not really somewhere you want to show up for social calls. I’m going to guess you haven’t seen your friend in a while. You might want to leave it that way.”

The warning sends a faint chill through Anders but it’s too late for him to even consider heeding it. He already knows what Karl is. He’s already made the decision to face him. “Please. I just want to talk to him. Can you just tell him I’m here?”

There is a pause, then a resigned, “Alright. Just wait while I see what I can do. Not making any promises though.”

Then there’s a click and Anders has to put his hand to the wall to steady himself because it’s too much. He half expects the voice on the intercom to come back and tell him to go home. It seems like the only logical outcome after so many years. He’s become used to failure. It would hurt but he’s used to that too. 

What he isn’t quite used to is the light touch on his back. The soothing quality in Garrett’s voice as he murmurs, “I’m with you. I’ll be right here, remember.”

Anders can’t bring himself to say anything back. He’s still trying to pull himself together when the voice on the intercom returns. 

“Alright. He’s heading out. I’ll open the gate.”

“W-what?”

“I said, he’ll meet you outside. You change your mind or something?”

“No…” Anders’ voice shakes. “No. It—He’s really here?”

“He’ll be down in a few. Don’t try anything funny. There’s another camera on the other side of this gate and I will see you.”

Anders just nods. He can’t seem to say anything else.

He stares at the gates as they slide open slowly and he still can’t believe what he’s seeing.

Garrett stands beside him. “In we go then, I guess.”

The tree lined driveway is perhaps a few hundred yards long. He knows how easily he could be making a mistake. But if it’s a trap, it’s a good one. He can’t turn back now. 

Maybe Garrett should though. Anders turns but before he can speak he sees a half smile tugging at his friend’s lips. “Nope. Not gonna happen. Moral support, remember?”

Perhaps he should argue but the truth is, Anders is immensely grateful. He doesn’t want to do this alone. He’s not entirely sure he can. 

Then he feels another stirring of encouragement from inside this time and remembers that Garrett is not the only one helping him through this. Whatever happens next. He’s not going to be alone in it.

They take their first steps along the driveway and the gate starts to close behind them. Anders tries not to think of that as ominous. He peers at the building, still a little way ahead of him. There are lights on in a few of the windows but the place is quiet. There’s no sign of anyone coming out to greet him. Anders isn’t sure where he’s supposed to wait so he keeps walking. There’s no sound from the house, only that of birds in the surrounding wood, of his and Garrett’s footsteps, the gravel crunching under their feet. Anders keeps his eyes fixed on the door.

Then he hears a voice behind him. A voice he hasn’t heard in years, though the familiarity after all this time makes Anders’ heart beat fast. 

“It really is you.”

He hears the sharp intake of breath from Garrett, as taken by surprise as Anders, though most likely in very different ways.

Anders turns and there he is. Karl. Standing in the shadows of the treeline where he definitely hadn’t been a moment ago. Objectively, he knows it’s exactly the kind of creepy he normally wouldn’t be able to resist commenting on. But not this time. Because the man standing in front of him is Karl.

It’s really him.

He hasn’t changed since the day Anders last saw him. He’d been the older of the two of them by seven years when he’d been turned, which makes Anders feel as though he’s done more than his fair share of catching up since then. If anything, where the tired lines around Anders’ eyes and the furrows in his brow have deepened, Karl’s have smoothed out. His hair still looks more steely gray than brown but he’d started to go that way in his twenties, before Anders knew him. It’s hard to put his finger on what makes him different from before that disastrous night five years ago. His features are human but something unidentifiable is off. Like even if Anders didn’t know what Karl was, he’d feel it.

Otherwise he looks the same. He wears his hair the same way, and his clothes, casual but neat. Anders stares wordlessly and Karl looks back at him through familiar grey eyes. Grey, not the shadowy black of the vampires he’s fought so many times before, mindless beasts more often than not. They’re Karl’s eyes. And for the first time since all this began, Anders allows himself to  _ hope _ .

Karl frowns and asks, “Why are you here, Anders?”

“I came for you,” Anders manages to say. “Karl, I… I didn’t believe I would really find you.”

He can make out the conflicting emotion on Karl’s face as he replies, “How  _ did _ you find me?”

Anders hesitates to answer. He’s sure Karl will understand but it’s still an uncomfortable thing to admit. “Your phylactery. I stole it.” He watches for Karl’s reaction but there doesn’t seem to be any anger in it. He seems surprised, perhaps a little confused and Anders finds himself babbling, “Had to break into the Gallows and everything. It was an insane plan but we pulled it off, Garrett and I.” He turns to gesture to Garrett but he’s moved away, giving Anders and Karl space while they talk. 

When he looks back at Karl he sees the small smile that touches his lips. “That sounds like something you would do… But I don’t understand. Phylacteries don’t—”

“Don’t work on vampires? Yes, I noticed. I have a friend who was able to figure out an alternative. She’s good with that sort of thing…” Anders wonders if he should just call it what it is but he can’t quite make himself do it. Instead he tells him, “We scryed for you using the blood from your phylactery. Though the phylactery had to be destroyed in the process. Shame that.”

Karl surprises him by laughing and Anders smiles back at him. He still can’t quite believe it. He’s really talking to Karl after so many years of believing he never would again. He takes a step forward.

And Karl steps back. Smile gone. A flash of something unfamiliar in his eyes. 

“Anders,” Karl says and he sounds pained, something lurking underneath his earlier words that comes now to the surface. “I told you to forget about me.”

Anders has to ignore the sting that comes with the words. He can’t believe Karl would stand by them still, not now that Anders has found him again. Now that they’re talking like this.

“I couldn’t,” Anders tells him. “I tried. For a while I thought I’d succeeded. But in the end… I never could.”

Karl shakes his head. His voice is calm but Anders can detect the sadness underneath it as he says, “I don’t know what you expected to find when you came here. What you were hoping for. But nothing about what I am has changed. I’m still dangerous.”

Anders can’t bring himself to care about the danger now. “I don’t know what I expected. I didn’t know if the spell had truly worked, if you were still alive and, if you were, if you’d still be you… I think all I wanted was to know for certain. Talking to you like this is more than I’d let myself hope for.”

“Then let that be enough. Don’t linger here.”

The words hurt but they don’t surprise him. They only convince him further that this is the same man standing before him now as the one who left five years ago. 

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Anders says quietly. Then, trying to inject more certainty into his voice, he adds, “I met another vampire. He knows how to control the demon inside him and live safely among mortals. You’re strong enough. You could do the same.”

But if he’d thought Karl would be convinced, or reassured by that, he was mistaken. Instead the words only seem to cause him pain. He sees Karl’s eyebrows knit tightly together as he struggles to keep the same calm tone he’s used so far. “What is it you want, Anders? Why are you telling me this?”

“I want to put things right. It’s my fault this happened to you. If there’s something I can do then I have to try.”

Karl looks miserable and it breaks Anders’ heart to see it. “I am what I am. That can’t be changed now. If it helps, I don’t blame you for it. You didn’t lock me up in that place.”

“I was stupid,” Anders nearly spits the words, as angry with himself now as he was back then. “I should never have trusted those people.”

“It was years ago. There’s no point in dwelling on it.”

Anders takes a step forward. “Then come with me. I know things can’t go back to the way they were but we can figure out a new way.”

Karl stays where he is so Anders takes another step. “I don’t think I’m as strong as you think I am.”

“You must be, though,” Anders answers quietly, desperately wanting it to be true. “You’re still you.”

He sees the conflict in Karl’s eyes and thinks he must want it as much as Anders does. But he shakes his head. “Sometimes it feels that way… I think seeing you brought out more of it than I’m used to. It’s—” Karl stops and takes a breath. “It’s a little overwhelming.”

Anders has taken another step closer to Karl but he stops, hearing that. “I’m sorry. Honestly, I feel as though I could say the same. But then I’ve never been a vampire so perhaps it can’t compare. It could be just me being overdramatic.” He shrugs, offers an awkward smile in the hope of easing some of the tension. “It’s been known to happen.”

Karl smiles sadly back at him but even that slips away as he says, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” Anders can’t help himself; he takes another step and they’re less than a metre apart now. “I’m not even sure if you can. Remember Justice? You said you were dangerous but I might even have you beaten there.” He doesn’t mean it as lightly as it sounds. The truth is it terrifies him but he’ll use it now if there’s any chance it will get through to Karl.

It doesn’t seem to work. “The point is that I’m not who I was before. I’ve killed people. I’ve lost myself to this demon so many times that I’m not sure I even want to come back from it most days.”

It’s the first real indication Karl has given since the beginning of this conversation of what he’s been going through all these years. And it doesn’t sound good. 

“Maker, Karl, I’m sorry. I thought… I don’t know honestly, I thought there was a pretty good chance there’d be nothing recognisable left of you after so many years. But if you can keep coming back, surely that means you’re already stronger than most. We can work it out. Just come with me.”

Somehow, when he finishes speaking, he finds himself standing right in front of Karl. Close enough to touch. And Karl does. Like he can’t help himself, he reaches up and touches the tips of his fingers to Anders’ face. Anders lets out a stuttering breath, leaning into the touch. “I missed you,” he chokes out the words. “So much.”

Karl’s thumb traces Anders’ cheekbone and for a long moment they both just take in the sight of each other. “My feelings for you never changed, you know. All these years and seeing you again… it’s like I never left.” His fingers drop away. “But for vampires, all desire, everything just blends into one. I want you… I love you and that only makes me want you more. It’s not safe for you to be around me.”

It’s difficult not to get stuck on the word ‘love’, to push past that and absorb what Karl is really saying. “You want my blood.” His meaning seems clear enough. He remembers what a struggle it had been for him in those early days. But after a speech like that, how is Anders supposed to walk away? “Alright. You don’t need to kill me to take it.”

Karl’s eyes darken at the suggestion. “Don’t,” he breathes, despite the obvious hunger written on his face. “I don’t know if I could stop myself.”

Anders feels a faint rumble that he recognises as a warning from Justice.

“I can stop you,” he says to Karl but it’s for Justice’s benefit too. “I’m not exactly helpless and I have to do something.”

_ I thought this was what you wanted _ , he thinks.  _ To set things right by helping Karl _ . There is no response besides the continuing feeling that he is doing something wrong. The feeling frustrates him. Is his own blood really that much to give if it means Karl won’t have to keep hurting others?

“Don’t do this… I can’t…” whispers Karl.

Anders takes Karl’s hands in his and looks him dead in the eye. “Karl, why are you here? Why stay in this place? Are you happy here? Because if the answer is yes I can go, if that’s what you want. But I’d like you to at least be convincing.”

The answer is not yes. Karl doesn't even try to fool him. “I can’t leave. They won’t let me.”

“Who won’t?” Anders feels a sudden anger surge in him at the idea of Karl being kept here against his will. It hardly sounds better than the Gallows. “Your clan?”

“Yes. The leader, Decimus, he’s the one who turned me.” Anders frowns at Karl, trying to process what he is being told. But he doesn’t understand. Karl explains, “He got away that night and found me again after I left you.”

“You went back to him? To the one who did this to you?” Anders lets go of him, horrified. All of these years, Karl has been with the very clan that tore them apart five years ago. He had hoped that Karl had found some small, relatively peaceful clan, if such a group even existed. But the truth was, he just hadn’t wanted to believe the alternative, however more likely it had been. Even in this very conversation, he’d hinted as much. 

“I’m bound to him. I cannot defy his will.”

Anders cannot find words for how appalled he is. Not with Karl. Karl did not ask for this. Karl has lived his life through one injustice after another, first the Circle, then the Gallows and now this. If he truly has no choice then how is it any better than slavery? Justice’s earlier disapproval has vanished to make room for his anger. He will not allow this to stand and there is no part of Anders that disagrees. It is only for Karl’s sake that he keeps the anger at bay, forcing Justice back so that he can think and speak with any semblance of rationality.

“I’ll get you out of here,” he says to Karl, once the spirit’s rage is under control.

“You can’t.” Karl says it so simply, so defeatedly, it only makes Anders more furious with the vampire that did this to him.

“Do you want to leave?” he asks, as calmly as he can manage. “I mean, if you could make the choice yourself, would you come with me?”

It takes Karl a while to answer and Anders gets the feeling it is not because he does not know, but because he has himself so convinced of its impossibility. Yet, for all his hesitation, he does not try to lie. “Yes. I shouldn’t. But yes.”

“Then I’m getting you out.” Anders turns to look for Garrett. In the time he and Karl have been talking, he has wandered away, out of earshot but still visible, leaning against a tree a little way down the long driveway. He looks over when Anders calls his name and when he approaches Anders tells him, “They won’t let him leave.”

“You know, I thought this was all going a bit too smoothly.” Garrett turns to Karl and asks, “Are you sure? Have you tried asking nicely?”

“He should not have to ask  _ permission _ ,” says Anders so forcefully that Garrett looks at him in surprise. It is possible that might have been Justice speaking but it hardly matters. He and Anders are very much on the same page in this. 

“I’m telling you, that gate closed behind you earlier and the only way you are getting back out through it is without me,” Karl insists.

“What if you tried to leave another time? I mean, you don’t have to stay in the creepy vampire lair all the time, do you?” asks Garrett.

Karl shakes his head. “Not always. But I don’t want to put anyone in danger. Now that I’ve spoken to Anders, I fear that if I disappeared it would only make Decimus suspicious.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad. We already have Fenris, what’s one more vampire fugitive joining the gang? If anything, at least you’ll fit in.”

“It’s not good enough,” says Anders, ignoring Garrett’s sarcasm. “Karl deserves justice for what was done to him.”

Garrett’s mouth hangs open for a moment before he answers, “Okay, I think I see what’s happening here.”

“Nothing is happening. Not yet, anyway.” Anders sighs. “Garrett, you don’t have to be a part of this.”

“Except, I think I already might be. Karl, how many vampires are in there?”

“There were around thirty, give or take, but now I’m not sure. There have been some new arrivals since we came to this place. Human slavers.”

Justice has been growing steadily more furious as the conversation progresses but now, hearing this new revelation, he is done holding back while they think of ways to compromise. “ _ We will crush them! _ ” he roars. 

Garrett, never having witnessed Justice coming forth before, gapes at him. “Uh, Anders? I don’t think we will. Were you even listening to those odds? If we had Marian and Fenris and the rest here with us—and at this point I feel I should remind you that we  _ don’t _ — then maybe we’d stand a chance. But, again, they’re not here. It’s just the three of us against way too many of them.”

Justice peers at him and tries to understand why Garrett would attempt to hold them back when they could fight. “You are afraid?”

“Yeah, I’m going to go ahead and admit to that one.”

“I would not allow harm to come to you.”

The look Garrett gives him then, Justice does not not entirely understand, despite having become reasonably familiar with mortal expressions during his time with Anders. Anders uses his momentary confusion to make him recede. As Anders comes back to himself, he catches Garrett’s look of utter incredulity. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Look, I’m not crazy. I’m not going to make you do this. We’ll figure something else out.”

Anders glances at Karl to see if he is taking the emergence of Justice any better than Garrett but his gaze shifts and focuses on something behind Anders. “He’s here,” he says quietly, resigned. 

Anders turns and sees who Karl is talking about. About half way between the front door to the mansion and where they stand is an older looking man with sandy hair and a beard. Apparently Justice had provided enough of a distraction for them not to notice his arrival. No doubt it was Justice’s outburst that drew him out here in the first place.

Decimus continues walking towards them. “Unless your new plan is to surrender, I do not think that is going to be the case.” He says the words loudly enough for their human ears to pick up over the distance. Being a vampire, he does not need them to extend the same courtesy; he has quite clearly heard Anders’ statement. He looks at Karl and there is anger in his voice when he speaks again. “You convinced me to let you speak with these people, to send them away without being harmed and now I find you plotting against me. I’ll give you one chance to redeem yourself: _ kill them _ .” 

Anders turns to Karl with only an instant to see the regret in his eyes before darkness takes them over. And then they aren’t Karl’s eyes any more. The calm grey he knows so well is gone, swallowed up by black pits containing only hunger. 

Karl lunges forward.

And Anders loses himself to Justice.


	22. Lose control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to put a note on this but I spent too long dithering over the chapter title and now have a headache and I can't think of what to say. I really like this chapter but it's a bit of a heavy one (mainly violence wise) as you've probably guessed coming off the last one. I'm just going to post it for now and I'll try to come back tomorrow and remember what I was going to say. Thank you for reading!

Garrett watches it happen. It’s not like the earlier slip where Justice had spoken through Anders, he’d seen the flickers of blue and couldn’t have missed the eerie distortion of his voice but it hadn’t been  _ this.  _ Cracks of blue light pour through his skin and this time the power coming off him in waves is nothing like the Anders he knows. In those first few seconds, Garrett just about has the presence of mind to send a wave of force at Karl, knocking him away from Justice. The spell is rather sloppily executed but thankfully he manages to avoid hitting the enraged spirit in the blast. Garrett does not want to put Justice’s earlier promise to keep him from harm to the test so soon by openly attacking him, intentionally or not.

His quick action pays off and as Karl flies back out of Justice’s reach and is no longer an immediate threat, Justice turns his attention to more pressing matters. Decimus’ eyes have grown wide at Garrett and Anders’ response to the attack. “Mages!” he cries in mad delight. “I’ve changed my mind. These one’s won’t die. They’ll make much better additions to my army. Capture them alive!”

It takes only a second for Garrett to realise that Decimus is not speaking only to Karl but to at least a dozen other vampires now emerging from the darkness beyond the trees. Garrett swears under his breath but Justice barely seems to notice the new arrivals. His attention is entirely focused on Decimus. “We will not become another pair of thralls for you to command. You will not do to us as you have done to him!”

Justice charges forward but before he can close the distance, Decimus vanishes and reappears far out of reach, drawing a powerful barrier around himself. A moment later, the new arrivals descend on Justice. 

Garrett sees another, smaller group coming for him. He throws a fireball in their direction and most of the vampires go up in flames. Only one escapes the blast and keeps coming for him. He casts a Fist of the Maker, drawing the vampire up into the air and slamming it back down hard against the ground. Pushing forward, he reaches into his coat and draws out one of Marian’s stakes. He’s thankful he had the forethought to bring it with him as he pins the stunned vampire beneath his boot and brings the stake down on its heart with the full force of his body. A second later the creature is reduced to little more than ash. Garrett glances up and confirms that the others hit by his fireball have met a similar fate. 

He turns then, and all at once he sees why Justice had not feared the numbers Garrett had balked at earlier. And why Anders had warned him to run and save himself if Justice ever came forth to protect him. He is terrifying. The vampire thralls throw themselves at him but they might as well be insects for all that they seem to bother the spirit. They bite and claw at him and Justice does not flinch, does not even seem to feel it. That’s not to say he isn’t trying to keep them off him. Many are met with fire and thunder, stopping them before they can get too close. But the ones that slip past he fights with his bare hands, literally tearing them apart. He reduces them to dust, ripping heads from bodies, crushing rib cages and pulverising the hearts he rips free of them. It’s enough to make Fenris’ lyrium trick look polite. Enough to make Garrett’s stomach turn as he watches.

And yet, they keep coming, more of them than before, ordered by their master and unable to disobey. Garrett sees from the bodies that litter the ground that a few among them must have been mortal, the human slavers. But they aren’t under the same compulsion as the vampires and have already stopped coming. Garrett sees them turn and run, recognising this as a fight they cannot win. 

He doesn’t even need Garrett and maybe the wisest thing would be to take Anders’ advice and run. Maybe he would have considered it if it was just the two of them. But Garrett knows he can’t. He looks away and sees he is not too late, though that was almost not the case. Karl has recovered from the spell he stunned him with a few minutes ago and it doesn’t seem to have knocked any sense of himself back into him. He looks at Justice with those empty black eyes and Garrett knows that if he does not intervene then Anders will never forgive himself. If there even is anything left of Anders to come back after this. It hardly looks possible. 

But Garrett does not have time to consider such thoughts right now, he can’t let anything distract him. Instead, he moves, crossing the distance between him and Karl fast and hurling himself at him. He takes Karl to the ground and Karl glares at him through eyes like black holes, baring his fangs in a snarl of rage. In his efforts to keep him off Justice, Garrett has forgotten to account for Karl’s vampire strength. Garrett is a strong man but he is only mortal, so when Karl pushes back against him, he flips them both over, reversing their positions like it’s nothing. Claw-like fingers dig into Garrett’s upper arms, drawing blood as his back is slammed against the ground. He gasps at the blow. The face looming over him looks even less human now that he’s scented blood. Garrett struggles against him. “Karl!” he tries, hoping that he can get through to him somehow. “I’d really appreciate it if you could snap out of it right now.”

Karl’s only response is another snarl that makes it very clear reasoning with him will do nothing. So instead Garrett decides to try another tactic. He channels his mana, drawing strength from the fade to fight back against him. He aims to push Karl off him and for a moment he thinks he has managed just that. Until he realises that Karl has not been thrown back, but dragged. 

Standing over him is Justice. Anders’ face, distorted by blue light, his eyes swallowed up by an inhuman glow. He holds Karl above him by the neck.

“Don’t hurt him!” Garrett manages, choking the words out through fear he can’t keep from coming over him after what he’s just witnessed. “You don’t want him hurt, remember?” He doesn’t know if there’s any use to it. He can’t tell if Justice was actually trying to save him, or if he’s just working his way through everyone in his path. But Garrett has to believe that’s not it. He scrambles to his feet as Karl hisses and flails in Justice’s grip. He grabs one of those swinging arms and summons a sleep spell. Karl goes limp. And Justice, seemingly satisfied, lets him drop into Garrett’s arms. He turns away. And Garrett lets out a breath, amazed to be left standing. 

The other vampires have fallen back. Clearly, Decimus has realised that sheer numbers 

are not going to cut it against Justice’s rage. Even from here, Garrett can see the fear in his eyes, the realisation that he has made a terrible mistake in engaging in this fight. In the brief moment that Justice was distracted he has pulled back. Now Garrett sees Decimus begin to prepare a new spell and he can feel the power being drawn into it as it starts to pull everything within range to its centre. The vampires still gathered around Decimus seem to all be mages. A last line of defense. At his order, they throw spells at Justice. Primal and elemental magics glance off the shield Justice throws up around him as he marches onwards through the blast area of Decimus’ spell. At first it doesn’t even touch him. He strides on, undeterred. But as the spell reaches its climax, unleashing the energy it has gathered in one huge blast, Justice’s shield gives way. He stumbles but does not stop. Garrett has stumbled backwards beyond the treeline and watches from out of range, crouched low with Karl still slumped against him. He doesn’t want to see it, because Justice may not be mortal—and he certainly doesn’t look it, glowing bright with all the power of the fade—but that’s still Anders’ body being battered by Decimus’ spell. Garrett doesn’t see how Anders can survive this. But still, he doesn’t stop, doesn’t seem to feel any pain. Despite the damage being done to his host, Justice just keeps moving.

Decimus watches him march through his spell as though it were little more than a strong wind and finally he begins to panic. “Stop,” he cries. “I surrender. Take Thekla and go. My servants will not try to stop you.”

Justice’s reply is a deep, booming sound that echoes off the trees surrounding them, “I do not accept your surrender. In bending their will to your own ends you have perverted the minds of these mages, along with the others under your thrall. You will not go unpunished for this injustice.”

“I saved these mages,” Decimus shouts back. “I freed them from their Circles, gave them the power to fight against the Templars that ruled over them. Not one will be left standing against the army I will build.”

“Then it is a just and worthy goal that you have perverted. There is no freedom in what you have done to these creatures. What you command is an army of _ slaves! _ We are done talking.  _ You die now _ .”

And Decimus, clearly seeing no other option than to make one last hopeless attempt to win this fight, yells, “ _ Attack! _ ” 

He brings his wrist up to his mouth and bites, drawing blood with which he must intend to power a spell. At the same time, several of the remaining thralls rush forward to attempt to stall Justice. Garrett doesn’t understand how any of them can be so far gone as to give their lives with one single command. Every blow against Justice only seems to make him fight harder. And for all that Garrett fears for Anders’ safety, it’s the vampires that fall, becoming ash and blood in the gravel at Justice’s feet. One of the mages hurls a torrent of fire his way that singes Anders’ clothes and licks at his skin, but like all of the other attacks, he doesn’t even seem to feel it. 

For a moment, he pauses at whatever it is Decimus is trying to do. Blood enslavement if Garrett had to take a guess. He isn’t even surprised when Justice resists. He raises arms, still aflame and summons yet more fire, which falls from the sky in a chaotic burning storm, encircling what is left of the vampires with Decimus at its centre. Still Decimus refuses to give up. He casts a barrier to defend against the firestorm as the others begin to burn and fall one by one.

“Shit,” mutters Garrett. This is too far. Does Justice not realise he’s in a bloody forest? The trees won’t do any longer as cover. He hurls Karl’s thankfully still sleeping form over his shoulder and casts his own barrier. The house is out of range of the spell and Garrett can only hope that the battle will be over before the fire can spread.

He stops at the manor’s entrance and places Karl at the top of the stone steps Then he turns back to the fight, which is quickly drawing to a close. Decimus is gone, the barrier he’d cast clearly not enough to protect him in the end. Garrett watches as Justice drops his decapitated body to the ground and it explodes into ash. Then Justice turns, does a sweep of the scene around him, looking for any last enemies he may have missed. But there are none. He killed them all. All but the handful Garrett took out himself. Seeing nothing left but flaming debris, ash and blood, he turns this time to face Garrett. 

In that moment there is nothing Garrett can do to conceal his horror. Justice stands amidst the carnage, parts of his clothing are still aflame but for that moment all he does is stare at Garrett with eyes that burn like veilfire. It lasts only a moment, then he doubles over. He gives a wordless shout and a burst of frost douses the flames closest to Anders. He doesn’t get up, just curls tighter into himself. And Garrett is quite sure that somehow, though it had seemed impossible, the figure in front of him is Anders again now. 

He is almost too afraid to move. But as much as he wants to stay rooted to the spot where he is still somewhat safe, the fire is spreading and Anders isn’t moving. Garrett rises shakily and stumbles closer. Once within range, he aims a burst of frost magic at a tree burning nearby, until, with some effort, the flames go out. He repeats the process until he gets the worst of the fire and nearly drains his mana looking for any bits he might have missed and putting those out too. When at last he is finished, he turns to face Anders. 

Garrett is torn between how little he wants to confront what just happened and wanting to see if his friend is alright. If this even still is his friend…

Anders is still doubled over on the ground. His hands are shaking. They are a half-healed, blistered, angry pink, as is the skin of his left arm where his sleeves are in tatters after throwing it up against a rush of flame. 

“Anders?” asks Garrett, tentatively.

He doesn’t answer right away. For a moment, he tenses. Then he sits up. Without looking Garrett in the eye, he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Barely a scratch on me,” Garrett answers, which isn’t exactly true. The wounds where Karl had scratched him still sting but they can wait. If Anders doesn’t have the mana left to finish healing himself properly then a few scratches hardly matter. Garrett hovers uncertainly a few feet away, still too stunned to know how to act.

“And... Karl?” Anders asks.

“He’s okay, I think,” Garrett glances back at Karl’s slumped form on the steps leading up to the mansion. “Still asleep.”

Finally Anders looks up at him. “You saved him. If he’d attacked, I don’t know what Justice would’ve…”

The eyes that peer up at him are Anders’ again. Warm golden brown. But the look in them is all pain and regret. Garrett can see the fear that he will reject him now that he has seen what Justice is capable of. All that destruction. Single-handedly wiping out an entire vampire clan… and yet now he looks so vulnerable.

“I didn’t want you to see that… but maybe it’s better for you to know,” Anders says and his voice sounds so small, and so tired.

Garrett is still shaken up but he realises suddenly that all his fear is residual. He doesn’t really believe Anders would hurt him. He takes a few steps to close the distance between them, still a little unsteady on his feet. Then he holds out a hand. Anders stares at it, disbelieving. A moment later, he takes it and allows himself to be pulled to his feet. Though he winces at the contact. His hands are still in a bad way. Garrett can feel the small pulse of healing magic he uses on himself but it’s far from his usual standard. He’s tapped out and Garrett can’t say he’s surprised. 

Healing might not be his strong suit but basic creationism is a useful thing to know when you get in as many scrapes as Garrett tends to. He runs his free hand over the back of Anders’ arm, all the way along to his fingertips, channelling the only healing spell he knows. He’s low on mana himself but he does his best, smoothing the blistered skin until it’s just pink and tender rather than angry and painful.

“Thank you,” Anders murmurs. His fingers twitch in Garrett’s grasp then he pulls them away. Garrett looks back up at Anders and sees that he is miserable. And a little confused. Possibly over why Garrett hasn’t run screaming. Garrett is a little bit confused about that himself but only in part. A smaller part than he expected. 

“We wouldn’t still be standing if it wasn’t for you,” he says in answer to an unspoken question. “Justice saved our necks back there. Quite literally in this case…”

Anders seems to accept this. And though he doesn’t look much happier, he says, “I’m just glad you didn’t get hurt. Either of you.”

They go back to where Karl is slumped over the steps and Garrett looks up at the manor. “Think anyone’s still in there?”

“At this point I don’t think I really want to know.”

“Right.” It’s probably safe to assume that anyone who took off during the fight will stay hidden for now but it would be better not to mention it. He doesn’t like the thought of potentially setting Justice off on another rampage.

Anders kneels down beside Karl. His hands are still unsteady as he reaches out to thread his fingers through dark hair shot through with silver. His touch is careful and uncertain. Garrett looks away. 

“Do you think—if we wake him…” Anders’ voice comes through quietly as Garrett stares at the stone beneath his feet. 

“Decimus is gone, right? Whatever power he had over Karl should have gone with him. Doesn’t that make sense?”

“Yeah… I think so.” He pauses. “Garrett…”

Garrett looks up as Anders opens his mouth. His hand has fallen back to his side. He looks up at him for a moment and his eyebrows are drawn together as he struggles with whatever he wants to say. Then his mouth closes again and whatever it is is abandoned. He looks back to Karl and says instead, “I’m going to try.”

That wasn’t it. Garrett sees this but doesn’t push. Part of him wants to, it’s true. But the rest of him is just tired. Whatever it is, if it’s important enough that Anders is afraid to say it, he doesn’t think that he has the energy to hear it now anyway. 

Anders turns back to Karl and gently shakes him awake. He keeps a hand on his shoulder as Karl’s eyes open slowly.

Karl doesn’t look like he’s about to be overtaken by the desire to kill either of them. Which is good because Garrett doesn't think he could deal with that right now on top of everything else. Honestly he just wants to go home and go to bed. Though whether he’ll be able to sleep after everything he’s just seen is another matter. In that case, perhaps he’d rather just go home and have a stiff drink. Or several. 

“Are you alright?” Anders asks. 

Karl frowns up at him. “Yes? I—what…” For a moment he just looks to be piecing things together until a look of distress comes over him. He sits upright and stares at Anders in horror. “I attacked you. Anders, I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” says Anders in a hurry. He reaches out and places a hand on Karl’s arm in a reassuring gesture. “It wasn’t really you. Decimus is dead now. He can’t control you anymore.”

“He’s dead? You…” Anders nods and Karl sits there for a moment, stunned. Then he shakes his head. “No I… I felt it, Anders. It was me. I wanted to… I’m too dangerous to be around.”

At that, Anders lets out a pained bark of laughter that completely lacks any real humour. “Seriously? I just— _ slaughtered _ your entire clan and you still think you’re the dangerous one?”

Karl’s eyes widen and he looks around, taking in Anders’ ruined clothes, burned in most places and splattered thickly with blood in the rest. He sees the destruction where the fight had broken out: a half burned down tree, charred earth, scattered gore from the few Justice had killed that weren’t vampires. “All of them?” asks Karl.

“Almost. A few got away, I think. But enough that I don’t think they’ll bother you anymore.” He doesn't sound proud of it. If anything Anders looks nauseated. Garrett thinks of his own reaction to what he’d seen Anders do, but though it had been Anders’ body, it had been someone else controlling it. Had Anders been aware the entire time? Had he felt his body performing these violent acts with no say in whether it was what he wanted to do? Had he been just as horrified through it all as Garrett was? He’d remembered Garrett saving Karl so perhaps the answer was ‘yes’. Garrett feels a little nauseated himself at the thought.

“We should get out of here,” says Anders.

Suddenly, a new question occurs to Garrett, “Where will we go?”

Anders gives him a questioning look and tentatively, Garrett explains, “We can’t go back to the house. Marian would never…”

He sees realisation dawn on Anders’ face, along with acceptance. “You’re right. She hasn’t even let Fenris near Bethany...”

For one moment Garrett wonders if Marian has ever seen Justice in action like that. Then he immediately feels awful for wondering because Justice has done nothing to threaten him, has promised to protect him and even proved he meant it when Karl attacked him. He tells himself that, if anything, they’re safer with Anders around. And he really wants to believe it, even if Anders himself clearly doesn’t.

“Maybe Fenris, then. I mean, I know none of us are exactly close with him like Marian is but he might be the only one who can help us.” Anders looks doubtful and Garrett gets that so he goes on to say, “Marian trusts him. And that’s not something she does easily. It’s got to be worth something.”

Anders sighs and nods. “Okay.” He looks back at Karl, who still seems to be gathering his bearings and appears a little confused by the exchange. “You want to go pay Fenris a visit? He’s a real delight. I’m sure you’re going to love him.”

“I—honestly? I have no idea. I’m still stuck at ‘Decimus is dead’.”

Anders looks sympathetic. “Sorry. I mean, not for Decimus. Fuck that guy. But for showing up out of nowhere and, well, you know…”

“Rescuing me?” says Karl with a fait look of wonder in his eyes.

For the first time since Decimus showed himself, Anders smiles. It’s slightly bittersweet but it manages to reach his eyes. The look he gives Karl so soft. So is his voice as he answers, “Yeah. That. Maybe not sorry then.”

Karl smiles back at him.

Garrett doesn’t know what he feels about that. He finds he just has to look away again. He’s pretty sure he’s happy for Anders. This is what he’d wanted, what Garrett had helped him to get. But it is also stirring some unwanted feelings that Garrett has been nurturing himself until now so it’s all his own bloody fault, really. He hopes Anders won’t notice. He doesn’t want to ruin this for him.

Before they leave, they stop to gather a few of Karl’s things. They’re all wary of what might happen if there are any vampires left hiding here, or more likely the slavers who had fled from Justice’s wrath. Thankfully they don’t encounter anyone as they make their way to Karl’s room. He doesn’t have much. He takes only clothes and a few books. Garrett sits while he waits for Karl and Anders finds a bathroom because there’s no way he can return to the city looking the way he does. He returns with his face and hair scrubbed clean, wearing clothes Karl has lent to him. It’s strange to see him in someone else’s clothes. The pale blue jumper he’s borrowed is far from anything Garrett has ever seen him wear before. He has his coat bundled up in his arms but from the state of him earlier, Garrett assumes there will be no saving it. Better not to leave it here, though. 

They stop at the gate controls on the way out. Whoever was stationed there before has fled but Karl gets the gate open for them. They’re already by the car when Garrett’s phone rings. He’s surprised by the sound. This whole night has been so strange and so far removed from the outside world. Whatever it is, he doesn’t really want to deal with it right now but he pulls the phone out of his pocket and looks at it anyway. When he sees Marian’s name come up on the screen he decides not to take the risk of ignoring her, knowing what her plans were for the evening.

“Marian. You okay?”

“Garrett! Where are you? Are both of you safe?”

“Uh, yeah,” says Garrett, surprised by her urgency.

“Thank the—” she breaks off with a sigh of relief. “Did you go to the house?”

“We went.”

“And you’re… fine? Did you see Castillon?”

That’s the last thing he’d expected her to ask. “Castillon? Wasn’t that the guy Isabela’s looking for? Why would we see him?”

“It was—Garrett, it was a fucking slaver base. I don’t know how you…  _ What happened _ ?”

“It’s a long story?” And definitely not one Garrett wants to go over on the phone. “We’re coming back now. I’ll fill you in when I see you.”

“We’re already on our way to meet you. To rescue you both. From all the slavers.”

“Well. No need.”

The line goes quiet for a moment and when Marian speaks again, she sounds frustrated, “Garrett, you sound fucking weird. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I mean, nothing right now. Other than we found Karl and we’re coming back. I’ll tell you the rest when I see you.” A thought occurs to him then and he asks, “Are you with Fenris?”

“Yes? What… You really found him?”

“Yeah. Can we meet you at Fenris’ place? We can explain everything there.”

He hears Marian repeat the question to Fenris, followed by his wary acceptance. Then he hears Isabela ask, “What about Castillon?” 

Garrett turns, meaning to ask Karl about it. But Karl and Anders are talking quietly to each other on the other side of the car and for some reason Garrett can’t bring himself to interrupt. “I don’t know. If he was here then either he’s dead, or he went running for the hills. There’s no one left here besides us.”

There’s a long silence on the other side of the line. Then Marian says, “We’re going back to Fenris’. Meet us there as soon as you can. Then I want to know what the fuck happened out there.”


	23. All I wanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a spare chapter lying around after attempting to make this one fit onto the end of the last and then realising that if I did that the entire thing would be nearly 10k. So I thought that since this chapter is going to put the story past the 100k word mark I'd celebrate by posting it early! To think, I originally thought I was going to be able to write this fic in around 75k words. Now I'm at 100 and I keep eyeing my plan dubiously and wondering how I'm supposed to fit everything that's still got to happen into the chapters I have outlined. Take the overall chapter count with a grain of salt because I'll probably end up splitting a few chapters in half if it turns out that they're longer than I thought.

When they show up at Fenris’ mansion with one extra mage in tow, Fenris is clearly not impressed. The sour look on his face is enough to make Anders’ hackles rise right away. He can’t help but think it was a terrible idea to come here and he has no idea how they’re going to get Fenris to agree to this. But Garrett was right about one thing at least: there isn’t anywhere else they can go.

Anders’ opinion of Fenris has improved somewhat after the last time they spoke. He takes a moment to remind himself that Fenris hadn’t had to help him when he’d first asked for advice regarding Karl but he’d spoken with him anyway. That had to count for something. The fact that he hates mages though… Anders is really going to struggle to get past that. Especially if he can’t keep the distaste from his expression the way he’s failing to now. And especially when the look is aimed at Karl. 

He doesn’t have much of a choice though and if Fenris helped him once before, it stands to reason that he may be willing to do so again. Right now, Anders just has to ignore the look on Fenris’ face, be the bigger person and approach this with civility. 

“We were hoping that Karl could stay here for a while. While he, uh, figures things out,” he says, once introductions have been made. There were quite a few to go around, as Merrill and Isabela have stayed with them. Merrill is by far the most enthusiastic when it comes to greeting him. 

Fenris, to the surprise of probably no one present, is the least. “And what is it he will be figuring out?”

Karl has been quiet since they arrived. Anders can tell that it’s all a little bit much for him but he’s doing well, despite that. Now, he answers, “Anders told me you live safely among mortals. If it’s possible, I want to know how.”

“I also told him it was not something I could teach,” answers Fenris, his gaze flicking between Anders and Karl.

And so much for being the bigger person; Anders’ patience snaps at the first hurdle. “Well, can’t you try?” he says shortly.

Fenris’ mouth stretches out into a long thin line.

“I think what Anders means to say,” says Garrett quickly, “is that Karl just needs a few pointers. He’s not been with the best crowd these past few years so that’s probably going to be an adjustment. But he really does seem to have the basic gist of it down already.”

“Thank you?” says Karl and Garrett sends him a tired grin.

“So, what do you say?”

“I would ask him what sort of clan he did align himself with these past years. If it was anything like the one I left behind in Tevinter—”

“—then you know what he’s been through,” Anders interrupts.

“Do not compare—”

“No! You stop! Your case was extreme, I’m not contesting that. But don’t you dare use it to undermine what happened to Karl. You could at least have some empathy!”

“Why?” Fenris demands, fully angered now. “What do I know of this man besides that he is a vampire and a mage and the former lover of a man who has done little besides irritate me since we met a few short weeks ago. And yet you would come to me, begging favours!”

While Anders and Fenris glare at each other, Karl places a hand on Anders’ arm. “This isn’t what I wanted, Anders. I came here for you, not to be an unwelcome houseguest and an inconvenience to your friends.”

“He is no friend of mine,” Fenris mutters. 

Anders ignores him and says, “No, Karl…” he lets out a short sigh then turns back to Fenris. “I know you don’t owe me anything. And that I’ve done nothing to deserve your help. If I were asking for me… well, I wouldn’t have bothered. But I’m not. I’m asking for Karl because there is nowhere else I can think to turn. The only place I have of my own is my clinic and you must know that’s not suitable.”

Fenris fails to contest this and he really doesn’t look happy about it. Nor does he ask why Karl can’t stay with Anders at the Hawke estate. That’s easy enough for both of them to see. He simply looks at Hawke for a second, then looks away, scowling. And Hawke just leans back against the far wall of Fenris’ living room, occasionally eyeing Karl warily but otherwise content to stay out of it. 

“And I suppose you would want to be around to assist in this ‘adjustment process’?”

“I assume it would help,” Anders replies. He glances back at Karl but he just looks uncertainly between Anders and Fenris as though wondering if there’s about to be another shouting match. “But if it bothers you that much, I don’t have to be.”

“It is a big house,” Fenris says begrudgingly. “I am sure we would manage to stay out of each other’s way. As for the pointers…” He looks at Karl. “I will repeat to you what I told him—what he so easily managed to forget: I can promise you nothing. I will offer what advice I can but in the end it will be up to you.”

“Thank you,” says Karl, earnestly. “I just... don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

“You won’t,” says Anders. He takes Karl’s hand and looks him in the eye, willing him to believe in himself. When Karl looks back at him and offers him the smallest smile, Anders feels overwhelmed for a moment. He wonders how many times it’s going to hit him that this is really happening and Karl is finally here with him again. He looks a little too long and possibly a little too adoringly for the audience they have at the moment but Anders isn’t sure he cares about that. He’s just so happy to have him back. He thinks Karl feels the same, though he seems slightly more tentative about it than Anders. He lets him have this moment then eventually pulls his hand gently free. Anders steps back, realising that Karl is still adjusting to all this and probably needs some space.

He makes himself look away, back to Fenris and says, with complete sincerity, “Thank you.”

And if his sudden change in demeanor makes Fenris a bit uncomfortable, Anders isn’t quite above feeling satisfied by that. 

“Wow,” says Garrett. “I’m not going to lie, I really didn’t expect that to work.”

Fenris gives him a look that is somewhere between amused and irritated. “Would you like any more miracles performed tonight?”

Garrett laughs. “I don’t know how many more we can get away with. I mean, first we find Karl in one piece, then we face the crazy vampire cult and get out with our lives. I think we might have reached our quota.”

“There’s still far too much of that you haven’t bothered to explain,” says Hawke.

“Yes!” shouts Isabela. “Like where does Castillon come into this? He was supposed to be there and you…? Lost him? Killed him? Could someone please be more specific?”

“Castillon?” Karl says, surprised. “He was the leader of the slaver faction Decimus recently teamed up with.”

“And Decimus?” asks Hawke sharply.

“He was my sire. And the leader of the clan. He found me again after Anders and I parted ways. He took me under his wing, gave me somewhere to stay. I don’t think I even realised at first that I was with him because I couldn’t refuse him.”

“But he’s dead now,” says Anders. His fingers twitch, wanting to reach for Karl’s again but he holds himself back, settling instead for looking him firmly in the eye and reminding him, “He can’t control you anymore.”

“Yes… I still can’t quite believe it.”

“You will get used to it in time,” says Fenris, without looking at either of them.

Before that line of conversation can be allowed to continue, Isabela asks impatiently, “What about Castillon?” 

“I didn’t see. I didn’t see much of what happened,” Karl answers. 

She huffs her annoyance. “And the rest of you?”

“Didn’t get a look at many faces. Not that I would have known Castillon’s to start with,” says Garrett.

“Well, you’re completely useless!” she complains. “The first lead I’ve had… _ever_ and the three of you blew it!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” drawls Anders, “the next time we need to rescue a man from life as a vampire thrall, I’ll be sure to check that it doesn’t cause any inconvenience for you.”

Isabela narrows her eyes. But before she can retort, Hawke interrupts with, “Something will come up.” Then she shrugs. “Either that or he’s dead. In which case, problem solved.”

Isabela sighs. “If I try to explain to you how you’re completely missing the point, would you even care?”

“Is it important?”

“I doubt it,” Isabela grumbles. 

“You can explain to me if you like,” says Merrill. 

“I know, Kitten. That’s why you’re the best of them,” she replies, conveniently forgetting that she hadn’t even told Merrill about this Castillon before tonight. “Let’s get out of here, shall we? We’re clearly getting nothing useful out of this lot.”

“Oh, yes. I think I’d like that. Not the getting away part. The um.. you know, with Isabela…” Merrill goes a bit pink then quickly changes the subject. “It was lovely to meet you, Karl. Good luck with not biting people.” Then she smiles warmly at Anders and adds, “I’m so happy that you found him! You must be so relieved.”

Anders looks back at her in surprise. “I am,” he replies quietly. It occurs to him suddenly that he never properly thanked Merrill for her help with all this. So he does so now. “Thank you, Merrill. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Merrill beams at him. “I know.”

Once they’re gone, Hawke looks at Anders and Garrett with a raised eyebrow and says, “Right. Anything else we need to discuss?”

“Nothing that can’t wait until we get home. Where I’m hoping there will be rum. Is there still rum?”

“I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“What, rum? Well, fine. More for me.”

“Oh, you’re deflecting. Wonderful. Anders?”

Anders has only been half listening. He’s exhausted and his mind is mostly taken up by Karl’s presence anyway. It takes him a moment to gather that Hawke wants to know if he’s coming with them. “Oh. I thought I’d stay. Help Karl get settled in.” Hawke doesn’t seem too surprised by that answer. And Garrett isn’t looking at him. At least not until Anders addresses him directly, “Garrett, could I have a word with you before you go?”

Garrett blinks and turns his gaze to Anders. He tries not to dwell on how very determinedly Garrett has not been looking in his direction since everything that happened at that place. He shouldn’t be surprised. He isn’t entirely, not after everything he saw there. But the look on his face after it all had still stung. Anders doesn’t blame him. He just wishes Garrett hadn’t had to see what he was capable of. 

But though he’s clearly still shaken up, he agrees to follow Anders out into the hall, where they can talk without everyone listening in. It’s not that what he has to say is private, exactly. It’s just easier to be honest without the audience. 

Garrett’s whole demeanor once they’re alone is awkward in a way he isn’t used to seeing. It makes him wonder if he should just let him go. But it wouldn’t feel right to do that without saying this. Even if Garrett is done with him now. 

Garrett raises a questioning eyebrow and Anders tells him, “Thank you. For everything. If it weren’t for you, for your support, I don’t know if I’d have gone through with any of it. And then Karl would still be in that place while I just sat in my clinic brooding over it. You didn’t have to—you barely even knew me and yet you went to ridiculous lengths to help me through all of it. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

Garrett shuffles his feet in obvious embarrassment as he begins, “Well, you don’t have to. It wasn’t—”

“Don’t say it wasn’t a big deal. You have to know how much this means to me.”

With that, Garrett gives him an oddly shy smile and Anders thinks that maybe not all is lost after all. There’s still a chance he might get to keep his friend after this. Impulsively, he takes Garrett’s arm and pulls him forward into a hug. Garrett makes a small surprised sound at the sudden contact and then relaxes into it. A second later, he brings his arms up to enfold Anders, pulling him tight against him. Anders smiles because of course Garrett was never going to be a half-hearted hugger. He’d never known for sure though. For all the comforting touches Garrett has given him, they’ve never actually hugged before. 

Perhaps it’s selfish how it feels safe now. How he feels less like a drowning man reaching out for anything he can take hold of. Garrett is warm and solid against him. Anders hugs back a little harder and whispers again, “Thank you.”

Garrett makes a small muffled noise against his shoulder, holds on a moment, then lets him go. As he steps back, he smiles. He looks tired but entirely genuine, “I’m glad you two found each other again. You deserve some happiness.”

Anders smiles back at him gratefully. 

“Okay, well, Marian is probably about to start making threats of injury if we keep her waiting much longer.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with telling her what happened? It feels like I should be the one.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’ve got enough going on.” Garrett stops and looks thoughtful for a moment. “Unless there’s anything you want me to leave out?”

Anders has to admit, he’s not loving the thought of Hawke finding out what happened back there. But it doesn’t feel right to keep it from her. He shakes his head in response to Garrett’s question. “She already knows about Justice. Just tell her whatever she wants to know.” 

Garrett’s gaze falls back to the floor for a moment but when Anders says goodbye, he glances back up and the look in his eyes makes Anders’ heart lurch. For a moment he thinks… but, no. There’s no way Garrett likes him that much. Especially after what he saw tonight. 

“I’ll see you back at the house sometime,” he says quietly and Anders nods.

As he watches Garrett walk away, he reminds himself that it’s for the best. Garrett deserves to be with someone who can give him a normal life. Or as much of a normal life as someone who seems to enjoy running headfirst into trouble is likely to find. 

Anders is too much trouble. 

At least with Karl—and, Maker, he doesn’t even know what’s going to happen with Karl—but at least that situation is pretty evenly fucked up on both sides. It’s a thought that makes him uneasy but he still finds himself hoping that he can be good for Karl. He’s sure he never could for Garrett.

The Hawke siblings go, leaving Anders with Fenris and Karl. Fenris is about as hospitable as Anders expected him to be. Which is to say, he tells them which room is his then tells Karl to go anywhere that isn’t there. After that he leaves them to it. 

The rooms really aren’t in the best state, but then Anders spends so much of his time in Darktown that it looks close enough to luxury to him, even after having his own room at the Hawke estate for so long. He can see the signs that the place has been inhabited by vampires before. The windows are adorned with heavy wooden shutters that must work well for blocking out the light during the day. Karl picks a room that seems relatively clean and Anders manages to track down some clean sheets for the bed. They’re likely far from freshly laundered but they at least seem to be unused. And once the bed is made the room looks habitable enough, if a little dusty.

“So,” says Anders. He lingers in the spot by the window when he’s done examining the shutters and tries to think of what to say. After so long there’s certainly no lack of topics to cover. But where to begin? “I suppose this wasn’t quite how you planned to spend your evening. Are you—uh, how are you handling it?”

He glances up at Karl, who is sitting on the bed across the room. Now that they’ve stopped, and they’ve solved the problem of where Karl will stay, now that they’re finally alone together, it's hitting him all over again what an unbelievable night it has been. Also, what an upheaval Karl has been through. 

“I’m still expecting to wake up at any moment,” Karl answers. “Though admittedly, it’s been a while since I’ve had to worry about demons trying to trick me in my dreams… maybe this really is happening.”

Anders lets out a soft laugh. “If it helps, I think what happened earlier would fall more squarely into nightmare territory. And those don’t tend to end as well as this.”

The look Karl gives him is regretful. “That’s assuming it’s over.”

Anders returns the look for a moment, then shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. I gave you up once before. I won’t do that again.”

Karl’s expression doesn’t change and Anders knows what it is he isn’t saying: _you might not have a choice._ But he can’t forget how wrong he was last time he thought that. Karl deserves so much better than the life he’s had. This time they have to figure it out. 

“It seems as though you’ve made a good life for yourself here. You’ve made good friends in any case. And you mentioned a clinic?”

Anders smiles. How many times has he fantasised about telling Karl about his clinic? It’s not exactly the life he used to dream of but it’s a step above working for the circle. “Yeah. It’s not much. Just a small place in Darktown but I can do good work there. Help people who really need it.”

Karl smiles back at him. “That’s what you always wanted.”

Anders can’t help but snort lightly at that because Karl is making the Anders of ten or so years ago sound a lot more selfless than he really was. “It’s not everything I wanted. Actual freedom always sounded pretty good to me. Not having to choose between helping people and staying with you.” Maybe I can have that now, he thinks. But the thought is soured by the thought that his freedom now relies on his not getting caught. And then it’s further soured by the reminder that there are so many others who don’t even have that, who are making do with whatever scraps of normal life the Circle will allow them.

Karl’s dark eyebrows have drawn together into a frown. “Wasn’t there ever someone...? I mean, I thought you and Garrett seemed… close.”

Anders feels his face heat up. It’s ridiculous but there it is. He opens his mouth but then only manages to shake his head. Karl looks at him in slight puzzlement and Anders tries to explain. “No. We—I haven’t even really known him that long. Maybe if things were different but…” He shakes his head again. “I’d only end up hurting him. You just saw what I am.”

He’s surprised by how saddened Karl looks by that. But then he figures it is pretty sad, actually. “But it’s been years. Hasn’t there been anyone?”

“Briefly,” Anders answers awkwardly. He doesn’t really want to talk about this, of all things, but he wouldn’t feel any more comfortable trying to hide it. “With Hawke—Marian, that is. It was never going to work out, though.”

It actually surprises him to realise how little he’s thought of Hawke with all of the other complications that have arisen recently. If this has truly become one less thing to worry about then that’s honestly a relief. She’ll always be important to him but if it just didn’t hurt anymore... It would help. A lot. He looks back at Karl, trying to work out how he feels about the admission. “Does it bother you?”

Karl’s frown deepens but his voice is very quiet when he answers, “Not in the way you’re thinking. I never wanted you to put your life on hold for me.”

Anders waits for him to say more but he doesn’t explain what he means by that. It makes him curious. “What about you?” 

“Me?” Karl laughs without giving the impression that he finds any of it truly funny. “I haven’t exactly been forming a lot of deep lasting friendships these past few years.”

The laugh tugs at Anders’ heart and he wishes he hadn’t asked. Yet somehow he still can’t stop talking. “I suppose it’s a relief to know those vampires back there weren’t friends of yours. But you really weren’t close with anyone in all that time? What have you been doing?”

“Helping Decimus attempt to build a small army? Nothing I’m especially proud of.”

The answer sends another small stab of pain through Anders’ chest. “I wish I’d done something sooner.” 

“We don’t know what might have happened. If it even would have made any difference.” Karl stops and the room goes quiet between them. The sounds of the city outside seem loud against the heavy silence. And yet when Karl speaks up again it’s impossible to miss the tired admission. “It might have been better if you had answered yes to my question earlier.”

Anders frowns. “Your question?”

“About Garrett. It just… would have made things simpler.”

He means the question about whether he and Garrett were together. Suddenly his meaning becomes clear. “Not from where I’m standing,” Anders replies with some difficulty. 

“I’m sorry.”

With that, Anders can’t take it anymore. He moves across the room and comes to kneel at eye level with Karl. “Is it really so hopeless?” He can see, even as he asks, the grey rings of Karl’s irises shrinking and how there’s something unfamiliar in the black depths that threaten to take over.

“Anders,” he warns.

It’s odd to feel Justice so alert without fully taking over. The sensation is physical, a prickle just under his skin, raising the fine blond hair on his arms and the back of his neck. It’s hard to say how much of it is Justice and how much is an entirely human reaction to staring into the eyes of a predator. It feels as though he should be afraid but he isn’t. He can’t look away. 

Justice may not like it but he knows what Karl means to him. And, ignoring that warning sensation that’s at odds with everything Anders wants, he knows that Justice won’t hurt Karl. They can make this work. 

“It’s been five years and you’re still you,” Anders reminds him. “You’re Karl. You have the strength to hold onto that.”

His eyes have shifted to a deep black but the lines of his face are so familiar it’s almost painful. They’d had a night together five years ago and a handful more before Karl was arrested but it had been three years before that since they’d been together properly. Since they’d had a home together. Eight years and Anders has never truly been able to give up on this man. And now that Karl is finally within arms reach, Anders’ breath still catches in his throat just looking at him. His hands shake as he reaches out to trace the new lines around his eyes. Except they can’t be new because vampires don’t age. He just hasn’t been given time to memorise them yet. 

Karl stays so still as Anders traces light fingertips along the side of his face. His eyes are closed now and like that he could be mortal again. Even with them open, Anders struggles to draw a line between the man that was taken from him all those years ago and the one in front of him now. He doesn’t know how he’d thought he could do this without wanting. If he’d ever thought that time and distance had helped then he was wrong.

Anders presses his lips to Karl’s. For a moment, Karl is still. Then carefully, he returns the kiss. Anders isn’t sure if either of them can really help themselves. Though he knows they’re both holding back. When he feels a hand tangle in his hair, he decides to push a little further, he draws Karl’s bottom lip between his own and presses into the kiss. For less than a second, Karl’s grip on Anders tightens, then it slips loose from his hair and slides down towards Anders’ shoulder, as though preparing to push him away. He doesn’t draw back far. Perhaps, like Anders, he can’t bear to. His lips still brush against Anders’ as he whispers, “Don’t—I can’t…” 

Anders is the one to pull away, just enough to see fear and desire both warring to take over Karl’s expression. 

He remembers Fenris’ words: _He wanted to feed on you. Had he done so, he might have found in that the strength to make the demon recede._

Anders feels Justice rage against the thought, more clear to him now than he ever is when they’re in agreement on something. Suddenly Anders understands what he’s been forgetting so far: Justice hates demons. And it is a demon that resides in Karl as surely as he shares this body with Anders. Karl’s grip on Anders’ shoulder is tight and he can feel the restraint being exercised. Restraint against this demon that might break free at any minute. Justice will not indulge it. 

Anders understands but he doesn’t think it’s that simple. Karl has been through so much. Demon or no, how can it be wrong to ease his suffering. After so long, does Karl not deserve just one night of relief? _And I can give it to him. Is that not just?_

_Please_ , he thinks, _just let me help him._

There’s no response, of course. But whatever was holding him back before eases a little. 

“Okay,” Anders breathes. “Okay, Karl. You can bite me.”

“I won’t be able to stop,” says Karl. 

“I think if that were true, you’d have given in already. Just hold on a little longer. Once it’s over, you’ll feel better. It’ll be easier then, won’t it?”

“I don’t know.” Karl’s voice is little more than a whisper. 

“Try. If you go too far, I can stop you.”

Karl’s eyes open. Anders can see the uncertainty in them but he has faith in Karl. 

“You want it, don’t you?”

Karl stares back at him and his nod is slight but it’s impossible to miss the desire he’s holding back, which threatens to spill over at any minute.

Anders closes the distance and draws him into another kiss. He feels the moment Karl gives in, how the kiss intensifies, and it’s everything Anders wants. Karl’s hand grips his neck, his thumb positioned just beneath his chin to coax Anders’ head back. Karl’s lips leave his and drag along his jaw before trailing down to his neck. He feels Karl tasting his skin and the shiver that goes through him. Anders is so completely drawn into the feeling. How he’d missed this man’s touch. There is no part of him that is afraid. “Karl… yes...” he means to sound reassuring but the words catch in his throat and come out more like a gasp. It seems to work as encouragement all the same. Anders feels the hot, wet drag of Karl’s tongue, followed by the prick of sharp teeth against his skin. The sensation makes him shiver, anticipatory pleasure running through every inch of his body. This isn’t something he’d ever thought he wanted but now that it’s happening, he can’t deny how something in it thrills him. Karl bites down. Anders groans against the mix of pain and pleasure and holds on tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's funny to think that I started writing this specifically because I wanted to write steamy vampire bite scenes but it took me 100k words to get to even one and it's not even for the ship I originally set out to write. Fenhawke fans hang in there. We're getting back to Fenris and Marian in the next chapter. Until then, I'd love to know what you're all thinking and if you've enjoyed the dramatic conclusion to the 'let's rescue Karl!' arc. It was painful but I've got to be honest, I really enjoyed writing it so I hope you all liked it too. Even though, yes, there is definitely more pain to come. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading and to everyone who has commented and left kudos. Your support always means so much to me! 💖


	24. And the talking turns to touching

When Anders and Karl wander off together to some other part of the mansion, Fenris goes out. He doesn’t have anywhere he needs to be but it feels strange being there and knowing he no longer has the house to himself. There is no real reason it should be a problem. It is a big house. But he feels conflicted and isn’t entirely sure why. 

He finds himself wandering towards Lowtown, which must be a habit by now from so many nights of following Hawke on her patrols. He even finds a few vampires to kill, which while satisfying, isn’t quite the same without Hawke. Still, it probably counts as a good deed. He even rescues someone while he’s at it. 

After a while, he thinks about returning to Hightown. But he scowls to himself as he remembers that the mansion there is no longer his alone. Fenris has become so used to being alone that he’s not sure how he feels about that changing. He walks for a while longer, feeling annoyed at how he doesn’t quite know what to do. Before he left, Anders and Karl had looked very much as though they would like to be alone. But would it even matter if he returned? The mansion is big enough that they probably wouldn’t even notice him. 

But he’s uncertain.

He calls Hawke. 

“This is your doing,” he tells her when she answers. 

“Excuse me?”

Fenris lets out a frustrated sigh. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say but he’s feeling irritable so his attempt to rephrase comes out as, “If I had not allowed him to stay, you would have.”

“No,” says Hawke, “I don’t think I would.” Fenris struggles to tell over the phone how she has taken his accusation but she sounds more sardonic than angry. That is probably good.

“You would have done something,” he insists. “You would not have simply turned away someone with no other place to go. Not when it was a friend who asked it of you.”

“Right…” Hawke does not sound entirely convinced. “Your point?”

“You wouldn’t have liked it. Because of your sister. It would have made you uncomfortable.” Saying it out loud, Fenris has to wonder why exactly he’d felt this was his responsibility. Other than that it had been him they’d asked first. And they had been right in that if Karl truly had to stay within the city, the mansion may well have been the safest place for him.

“Fenris, are you trying to tell me that you took Karl in because you didn’t want me to feel uncomfortable? That is awfully sweet of you.”

Fenris growls low in his throat. She is making fun of him.

“What is it exactly? Do you have a problem with him being there?”

Fenris frowns down at the pavement at his feet. “That’s not it… I have become unaccustomed to sharing a living space. They would want privacy for their reunion.”

“And there isn’t enough space for that between three people in that enormous house?”

Fenris has no answer. He knows that he is being foolish.

“Where are you right now?” Hawke asks.

“Somewhere in Lowtown.”

“And you don’t want to go back yet? Fine, just come here then. None of us were planning on sleeping any time soon anyway.”

Fenris goes still. “You want me to come to your house? What about Bethany?”

“Bethany?” says Hawke in a tone that suggests she is no longer addressing Fenris. “Is it alright with you if Fenris comes over for a while?”

He hears the response faintly in the background, an unfamiliar voice saying, “Really? You’re actually going to let me meet him? Sure, why not?” He gets the impression that a good portion of that is sarcasm.

“Garrett?” asks Hawke. Garrett’s response is muffled but Fenris gathers that it’s an affirmative when Hawke says, to him this time, “Beth is fine with it. And Garrett. It’s up to you.”

But Fenris hesitates. “I thought you would not want me there.”

“Before, yeah… but now is different. Besides, if I really thought you were going to hurt my family, you’d be dead already.”

“You’re always such a charmer, Marian,” he hears Bethany say in the background, definitely sarcastic now. Fenris doesn’t manage to hold back a quiet chuckle at that.

“You heard that?” says Hawke. “Well, fine. Apparently you’re going to get along great. Might as well come over before Garrett drinks all the rum.”

Fenris isn’t sure how to respond. Mostly because of how much he wants to say yes. He’d thought after last night that Hawke would want to go back to keeping things strictly professional. It certainly hadn’t occurred to him that she would trust him enough to invite him to her house. But is it really acceptable? Wouldn’t it better to keep one another at a distance? 

Maybe. But being around Hawke, being trusted by her, feels like nothing he has known in any life he can remember. 

He wants more of it.

“I am on my way.”

* * *

He’s only seen the Hawke estate from the outside before. From there, other than being a little overgrown with ivy, it looks much like any of the other Hightown mansions. Inside, Fenris is sure it’s anything but. He does not have to be familiar with the locals to know this. 

But he’d walked in, expecting _Hawke’s_ house, only to be abruptly reminded that Hawke lives with four other people and the house is just as much theirs. It’s all expensive looking antique furniture, laden with books, garish nick-nacks and plants—plants everywhere. On tables, on the floor, hanging from the ceiling. The walls are a mixture of the kind of old portraits like the ones that hang in his own mansion, along with more recent photographs of the Hawke family. Or, perhaps, not so recent, as nearly all of them show faces he does not recognise. One must be Bethany, then the second brother Hawke had mentioned once, a man and a woman who can only be their parents. While it’s oddly fascinating to Fenris, it’s not quite enough to keep his attention off the other artwork. He isn’t actually sure if the paintings are supposed to be cute or unnerving but he finds himself settling on the latter.

“Merrill,” Hawke explains when she catches him staring at a painting of what he thinks might be a halla. Possibly a possessed halla, Fenris isn’t quite certain. “Most of the paintings are hers. The plants are hers and Bethany’s… I’d apologise for the mess but I’ve seen where you live.” She smirks at him.

“And this is better?” Fenris raises an eyebrow. He cannot say he cares for the strange artwork at all. 

Hawke shrugs. “It’s home, I guess.”

She leads him through the house to a room where he can hear Garrett and Bethany talking over quietly playing music. He follows Hawke inside. The room smells of incense and woodsmoke from the fire in the hearth, and quite a bit like dog. It’s not a mystery as to why. Dog is currently sprawled on one of two settees, half on top of Garrett—also sprawled. The dog grumbles at Fenris. They’ve met before, once or twice. He does not like Fenris much; unsurprising, given what he is. But Hawke seems to think the mabari will warm up to him in time. It is possible, Fenris supposes. Mabari are intelligent animals. 

Garrett is much more welcoming, though Fenris senses the grin he throws in his direction is a little bit forced. 

Bethany is on her feet, coming over to greet him with a hand outstretched. He hesitates before taking it. “It’s lovely to finally meet you, Fenris,” she says with a smile that is more than warm. It would be difficult not to be charmed by it.

She looks like her sister a little, with her black hair and pale complexion but her face is softer, prettier, in a more conventional way, anyhow. He nods at her and ends the handshake quickly. For all Bethany’s loveliness, he can already feel the magic from her. He has to stop himself from rubbing his hand where her touch has made his markings itch. Garrett’s magic, too, is a low hum from his place on the settee.

Garrett complains, “Everybody always loves Bethany. _I_ didn’t get a handshake.”

“If it helps, not many do,” Fenris tells him.

“I’d count myself lucky but I know it’s just part of my charm.” Bethany grins and throws herself onto the sofa next to Garrett, nudging him playfully.

“Hey, charm is my thing. I happen to be extremely lovable. Aren’t I, boy?” He scratches Dog behind the ears and the mabari barks happily in agreement. “You’re just the only one who seems to notice it lately.”

Hawke gives him an unimpressed look. Then she turns to Fenris, holding up two bottles, silently questioning which he'd prefer, rum, or wine. He indicates to the wine and she pours then hands him a glass. Of Garrett, she says, “He’s been like this since we got back. But he still refuses to admit he’s been an idiot about the Anders situation.”

“‘The Anders situation’?” Fenris isn’t even sure he wants to know. 

“Oh, you know… how he’s spent the past few weeks helping the man he fancies get back together with his ex.”

“I told you,” says Garrett moodily. “I’m fine. It all worked out better than we could have hoped. And besides, we don’t know that they’re back together.”

Fenris stares at Garrett, attempting to discern if he is in denial or really just that dense. Fenris is by no means an expert on interpersonal relationships but even he hadn’t missed the way the two of them were looking at each other earlier. Garrett seems to read this in his expression and perhaps mistakes it for Fenris knowing something he doesn’t after staying behind with them earlier. For just a moment, his face falls, until he plasters over the obvious hurt with a cheery smile. “Well, that’s great! I’m happy for them.”

“Uh huh,” says Hawke, not bothering to hide her disdain. She turns to Fenris. “You can sit if you want.” Then she goes to the second sofa opposite the fire, the one not occupied by Bethany, Garrett and Dog. Fenris follows her and sits at the other end of it. He sips his drink, feeling awkward now that the only sound in the room comes from the record player in one corner and the low crackle of the fire. It would be comfortable if not for the feeling that Fenris has interrupted the Hawke sisters’ attempt to console their brother over his ill-fated romantic endeavor. 

He glances at Hawke but she simply glares at the glass in her hand with seemingly nothing more to say. Bethany is the first to speak up over the quiet. “So, how are you finding Kirkwall, Fenris?”

“It is… not what I expected.”

Hawke snorts at that. “It’s a shithole. Everyone knows that. What’s to expect?”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking at how she never seems lost for words as long as she can insult something. He shakes his head. “I was referring to all of—” he gestures at the room and the people around him “—this. I wasn’t expecting any of it.”

“That’s what people always say about Merrill’s paintings,” Hawke quips. 

Fenris throws her another amused look. “Again, not quite what I meant.”

“I like Merrill’s paintings,” says Garrett. “I think they give the place a bit of character.”

“Because it would be so lacking otherwise,” Bethany laughs. “I agree, though. They’re very Merrill. And I like Merrill so… That’s not what you were talking about though, sorry Fenris.” She looks at him and waits for him to continue.

He feels a little uncomfortable. “I mean only that it has been a long time since I have had… companions.”

He regrets the words as soon as he speaks them. The last time he’d had any sort of companion was also the last time he’d seen Danarius. And Fenris had killed every one of them at a single word from his master. He has to wonder, after something like that, what right does he have to be here? Hawke welcomed him into her home because she believed it was safe to do so. Would she have done the same if she knew the things he has done? If he truly wished to honour the trust she has placed in him then he would leave.

He looks up. Hawke’s eyes are on him. Her frown is not one of mistrust. Instead it looks closer to that anger she always seems to feel on his behalf whenever he makes some mention of Danarius. As if she knows. He had not thought his expression so telling. And hers is the reason he can’t bring himself to leave. She makes him not want to be alone. Makes him feel that he isn’t.

“You’ve been on your own a long time then?” asks Bethany, sympathetically. 

“I… yes,” he answers with some discomfort.

“Leave it, Beth,” says Hawke softly. She has stopped looking at him and turned her gaze upon the fire instead. Bethany looks surprised by her quiet admonishment but complies easily. 

“That’s one thing Kirkwall’s good for. We’ve met some good people here,” Bethany tries. She looks as though she might be struggling a little. Fenris can see why. He has never been particularly talkative, nor is Hawke most of the time. He’s spent enough time with Garrett at this point to know that with him the problem is more getting him to stop talking. But at the moment he has Dog—or a good portion of Dog—gathered in his arms and his face buried in the side of his thick neck. 

Fenris thinks that perhaps he ought to make an effort. “Is that why you stay?” he asks. “For the people?”

“Some of us do,” says Hawke and Garrett looks up at her and pouts. “What? Are you feeling particularly sensitive tonight for some reason?”

“ _No_. I told you, I’m fine.”

“Marian,” Bethany sighs. “Don’t be an ass.”

Hawke rolls her eyes and finishes her drink. She reaches over to grab the bottle and pours herself another. Then she does the same for Fenris. As she pours, she says, “So maybe it’s not much less awkward here than it would be at your place but at least we have glasses.” She looks up at him and smirks at the amused look he gives her. 

Once she finishes pouring his drink, he raises his glass and asks, “To the small things?”

He does not admit that he is less concerned with glasses than he is with Hawke’s smirk. How her eyes can be such a cool blue yet they burn as they look up at him from under her dark lashes. One corner of her mouth raises just slightly as she clinks her glass against his before taking a gulp. 

“Are you toasting without us?” asks Garrett. “That’s rude.”

Garrett frowns at them but Bethany seems unconcerned. “I don’t think I want much more anyway,” she says.

“You’re not going, are you? We’re supposed to be… celebrating. Marian, give me a top up.”

Hawke drags her eyes from Fenris. “How could I say no to the life and soul of the party? Bethany?”

“Not for me. I’ll stay up for a little longer but I should probably get to bed soon.”

By the time Fenris finishes his drink, Garrett starts snoring. 

Hawke raises her hands. “I’m not carrying him out.”

Bethany smirks. “Even though out of the two of us, you’re the one who might actually manage it?” 

“Do you think I could?” Hawke looks suddenly curious. Also: drunk. Fenris can’t imagine this is the best idea. “I wonder how much he weighs. Hey, Dog, get down.”

“Marian, no…”

Dog gives Hawke a pleading look before sighing and doing as he’s told. Garrett is saved from Hawke’s curiosity by a paw in his stomach. “Oof!” He jerks awake.

“ _Carefully_ , Dog?” Marian complains.

Dog whines.

“Ow…” mutters Garrett.

“Come on, you. It’s bed time,” says Bethany. She turns to Hawke and Fenris. “I’m going to call it a night too.”

“Fine… fun’s been ruined anyway.”

Garrett just makes an unintelligible noise before he’s led from the room, Dog following close behind them.

Hawke meanders over to the far side of the table that stands between the sofa and the fire. Somehow he actually sees her realise she’s forgotten her glass and think _‘ah, fuck it’_ , before picking up the bottle and taking a swig. Fenris laughs. It’s fascinating how much more expressive she becomes when she’s been drinking. 

She looks at him and her eyes widen almost imperceptibly. “Shit,” she says. “This again." 

Fenris raises a questioning eyebrow as Hawke watches him from beside the fireplace. Bottle of rum in hand, she makes her way back towards him, saying, “You and me... left here alone…” She smiles crookedly as she hands him the bottle. “I just know people are going to start to gossip.”

Fenris does not think he has seen anything like the playful glint in her eyes before now. Hawke flops down onto the sofa beside him, leaning her arm against the backrest with the rest of her body angled towards him. He notices this and then in a rush realises that she is flirting with him. It’s difficult to process at first but also hard to deny. There has always been something between them he could not help but notice, something charged and enticing. Even Hawke’s friends have made the occasional comment about it. Hawke has always refused to acknowledge it herself before now. 

He is surprised by how easily he responds, “What do you imagine they would say?” He takes a drink and places the bottle back beside the sofa before returning his gaze to her. Hawke blinks and her face flushes. He does not think he has ever seen a more beautiful sight. The colour in her cheeks is almost enough to make his mouth water. He cannot look away.

“Shit,” Hawke says again, dropping her arm from the back of the sofa and sitting up. “This is bad.”

Fenris swallows. Then he asks. “Do you wish for me to leave?”

“No. Fuck… No, I really don’t.”

He manages to drag his eyes back to hers to take in that odd combination of lust and alarm. “It’s not fair,” she complains. “Damn it. Do you have to be so fucking smooth all the time? Especially looking like that?”

A wave of discomfort washes over him suddenly at the words, “Looking like…?”

She glares at him. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Fenris. Do you have to make me say it?”

“No… I thought…” His appearance is strange. Nobody looks like him. Something Danarius had always always prided himself upon, and as such it was difficult for Fenris to see things the same way.

Hawke is frowning at him in a way that suggests she is embarrassed by her outburst. It’s strange to see her so flustered when normally she is confident—prone to losing her temper, but never uncertain like this.

It's an uncertainty he understands.

She sits back, running a hand through her short black hair, making it spike up in a way that makes him want to reach over and smooth it, if only to feel it for himself. He has always been averse to touch but now how suddenly he craves it. Or, perhaps not suddenly. Because he’s thought about it, hasn’t he? What it would be like if it was her…

She sees him watching her and seems to have gained some measure of control over her own reaction to him as she stares back. Yet, for all her control, her eyes burn as fiercely as they do in the heat of battle. 

“Are we doing this?” she asks him.

“This?”

She sits up and slides closer to him. “Yes. This. I’m starting to think it might be inevitable. In which case, perhaps we should cut the bulshit and get on with it.”

“You make a persuasive argument,” he comments drily and wonders if he is at all hiding the fact that he is far less calm on the inside than his words suggest.

She scowls. “Oh, shut up.” Then she places a hand on the sofa back and swings a leg over both of his so that she is positioned over him. She looks down at him, arching an eyebrow as she waits to see if he will push her away. He doesn’t. Instead, his hands find their way to her hips, gripping them through the tight black fabric of her jeans. Her own hands then slip from the back of the sofa to his shoulders. He sees the look on her face, the slight uncertainty that slips through her outer confidence. But there is no uncertainty in her grip on him. Her hands push down over his collar bones and across to the tops of his arms, her eyes not leaving his once as they go. 

Still, he asks her, “Is this what you want, Hawke?”

“I’m leaning towards yes.”

“That is not…”

“Stop. I’m a big girl, Fenris. No need to coddle me.” She leans over him, coming closer so that her breath tickles his face as she talks. She smells like the rum she’s been drinking but even this close he barely registers it over the scent of the warm blood pulsing beneath her skin. That scent has been taunting him for weeks and now it’s so close…

He moves one of the hands positioned at her hip, runs it along her side, feeling her shiver above him, then over her back and shoulders to grip the back of her neck. Then he can wait no longer. He pulls her mouth down to his.

The kiss is in no way gentle—on either side. It’s all heat and hunger and hands gripping for tighter purchase. He has given thought before now to how she might taste, perhaps not in this exact context but this is hardly a disappointment. Hawke makes no effort to be careful and he is too drawn in to the moment to warn her of his fangs so when she slices her lower lip on one of the sharp points it feels inevitable. For the first time, he tastes her blood on his tongue and has to bite back a moan of pleasure at it. His hand grips her waist tighter and a shiver goes through him as he fends off his Demon. He will not lose himself over this. He refuses to. 

Hawke goes still and then pulls back from him and watches as he beats the Demon back. It will not have her. Not when Fenris wants her so. 

She breathes heavily, blood glinting on her lips before she draws the small wound into her mouth and sucks it clean. Fenris isn’t prepared for what the sight of it does to him. He has to take another moment to be certain he is in control of himself. 

“You’re good at that,” she tells him, her voice husky in a way he’s never heard it before. “Staying in control.”

“I apologise,” he breathes, once he feels able to speak.

She smirks. “Don’t. You’ve seen the way I fight. You really think a little bit of blood is going to bother me?”

It’s true. He’s seen it many times; Hawke revels in blood nearly as much as any vampire. In fact, the look on her face now is more familiar than any he has seen tonight. She looks at him hungrily, wanting more. “Can you keep going?”

He almost laughs. “You truly want to?”

She shrugs. “I’m up for it. But it has to be you I’m doing this with. If you lose yourself…”

“I will not,” he tells her, meaning it even through his fascination with the blood welling up again on her lip. “Believe me, Hawke. I want all of you for myself and myself alone.”

He sees her eyes widen and then darken with lust. She dips her head and kisses him roughly. The taste of blood fills his mouth.

It takes a fair amount of willpower, after that, for either of them to stop and consider that a change in location may be for the best. Hawke’s bedroom is on the top floor of the house. Fenris has the time it takes to follow her up three flights of stairs to change his mind about this. It does not occur to him to do so. Instead he finds himself transfixed by the sight of Hawke leading the way ahead of him. He can’t take his eyes off the way her muscles move under the tight black fabric of her clothes, or stop thinking about the faint blue veins that disappear beneath her shirt and how he wants to see more, to taste the skin that covers them. The taste of her blood is already on his tongue but it’s not enough. He hungers for her with his entire being. And he both fears and wants to know the feel of her skin against his. 

He’s so used to the pain of his markings but now every nerve ending in his skin is on alert from the feeling of her poised over him earlier and that’s something he’s completely unused to. He thinks the pleasure her touch will bring him might for once overtake the pain. 

They reach her room and no sooner are they through the door than he pulls her back against him. 

It’s not confidence. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. But his uncertainty doesn’t seem to be enough to stop him in this moment. He wants her. And that takes over everything. His hands slide over the smooth bare skin of her arms as he kisses her again, feeling the hard muscle flex as she reaches for him. She takes his hands and moves them to her hips, only to guide them upwards. He makes no objection, instead pushing the thin fabric that covers her up so that he can drag his hands up over her ribs towards her small breasts. She gasps against his mouth as he swipes a thumb over a hardened nipple. She rocks her hips against him and he groans as her thigh presses against the hard length currently straining uncomfortably within the fabric of his jeans. It's a discomfort he doesn’t quite mind, though and he can ignore it for now. While the thought of where their actions might be leading excites him, it’s a complete unknown. He’s never had anything like this with anyone. Not that he can remember anyway. As much as he wants it now, it unnerves him. Because of his markings, everything he’s been through because of both them and the man who gave them to him. 

Pleasure is an unknown to him. It’s something that’s always been left up to the Demon. And the things his Demon takes pleasure have always left Fenris faintly disgusted. Wanting something, someone, entirely for himself, that is entirely new. And tonight it’s something that he can’t deny. Not when the evidence is right there, straining hard against the top of Hawke’s thigh. But thinking about it is too much. For now he focuses on Hawke. It’s easier somehow, responding to her, following her direction, giving her what she wants. 

He pushes her black cami higher and she breaks the kiss so that he can pull it off her entirely. He’s been thinking about this, about what she would look like. About dipping his head and tracing those faint blue veins with his tongue, starting at her freckled shoulder and kissing downwards, between her breasts, towards the top of her stomach. He feels the muscle tense under his lips and then she pushes her fingers through his hair. And he enjoys how it feels. He’s not sure if he can get used to that. To wanting to be touched by her. 

He kisses back up to her breasts and when he presses his tongue against the nipple he’d rubbed his thumb over earlier, the sounds she makes cause his body to react in a way that leaves his jeans suddenly far too tight. He can’t help but reach down and unbutton them. Somehow, she notices and she uses the hand she has tangled in his hair to guide him back up to her mouth. She kisses him hard before panting, “Bed.” 

He follows her lead but finds himself simply watching when she falls down in front of him on the mattress and starts tugging at the top button of her own jeans. He’s surprised by the eagerness that overtakes him then and he bends to help her. He pulls both her jeans and her underwear off her in one before stopping to take sight of her. She is more than he even realised he wanted. She has the body of a fighter; strong, scarred in places. Seeing her laid out before him now is a lot to take in. Not simply because he has enjoyed looking at her for some time and now there is so much more of her to see. But because this doesn’t feel like his life. Seeing this woman before him who he knows does not trust easily and who has chosen to trust him, knowing he can touch her, taste her, that she wants him to do these things—that doesn’t feel real. 

Fenris has not seen his former master for over three years, but there are times when he still doubts his freedom, whether it will last, or if it’s something he’ll ever truly adjust to. It was not that long ago that Fenris’ life was that of a slave. This isn’t something a slave could ever have. 

He wonders, if he reached out, started to run his hand up along the inside of her thigh, would she not just disappear? Would he not awaken to find this all some unlikely dream? 

“Fenris,” she says, making him raise his eyes to hers. “Not that I don’t appreciate you enjoying the view but perhaps we could even things out a little.” Her eyes flicker down to his own body, still fully clothed. He sees the desire in her expression. It’s a feeling he’s familiar with, from those early mornings when he can’t get her out of his head. But he’s never seen a look like it on her face before tonight. It’s alluring enough to pull him away from his doubts. 

“Not yet,” he tells her, smirking as it suddenly occurs to him to find out how much further he can push her. He can smell her arousal nearly overpowering the always alluring aroma of her blood. What would that taste like, he finds himself wondering. 

When he touches her, she remains solid beneath his fingers. Her centre is slick and warm and when he lowers his mouth to her, the tang of it on his tongue is almost as good as the blood he’d sampled on her lips earlier. Or maybe it’s better because of how the movement of his tongue against her clit makes her moan and buck against him. He finds himself delighting in her pleasure. At least until it becomes too much—because all he can think about is how the only thing he’d like more in this moment would be to allow himself to draw blood. He wants to bite her. And how easy it would be to turn his head and find a vein in her inner thigh to sink his fangs into. He wants it so badly in that moment that he has to stop. He draws back to give himself time to calm down. 

“Are you alright?” Hawke asks him. 

He cannot help but feel embarrassed to have had to stop for such a reason. “I… Yes. I apologise.” 

She sits up, looking carefully at his face. Despite his embarrassment, he does not try to hide his dilated pupils. It’s better that she knows, that he is honest with her. If she understands—and he is certain that she does—she does not comment on it. Instead, she draws closer to him and mutters, “You distracted me.” She pauses a moment, waiting to be certain of his recovery, and then kisses him. A moment later, he feels her tugging at the hem of his shirt. He lets her pull it up and over his head. He tries to push back any discomfort he has with the thought of baring himself to her. It becomes easier when, with his shirt out of the way, she goes back to kissing him. She presses her hands to his chest and he freezes when he feels her hesitate over his lyrium brands. 

She draws back from him. “Do they… does it hurt when I touch them?” 

It’s the last thing he wants to talk about. But he supposes he has to appreciate her consideration. “They always do. But this is…” He can’t find words for it, how he craves her touch even despite the pain of the brands. That, he’s used to. The pleasure she gives him is new. Right now, he’s certain it’s worth it. “I will tell you if I need you to stop.” 

When she nods, he knows that he can trust her. And that is no small or insignificant feeling. In fact, it is nearly overwhelming. He sees her notice as the realisation dawns on him and something passes between them in that moment. The knowledge that whatever this is between them might be bigger than either one of them had anticipated. They each hesitate a moment, and then Hawke is pulling him back against her mouth. Her hands slip down to the waistband of his jeans, already unbuttoned, and when she begins to tug at them, he does not stop her, as though her sudden urgency were contagious. 

Though perhaps it has more to do with how he has been neglecting his own arousal all this time. With his cock now free from the constraints of his trousers he nearly sighs at the relief. Then Hawke urges him back against the bed. He follows her instruction and any lingering nervousness he feels is not enough to stop him now. She climbs over him, pressing the length of her body to his and then he does gasp at the unexpected pleasure of her skin against his. Her hands roam as she kisses him, along his sides, up to clutch at his shoulders as she rocks her hips against him. They both moan at that, at the friction where his cock is trapped between them. He feels the wet heat of her as she continues to move. But he wants more, he needs more. “Hawke…” he whispers, his lips trembling against hers. Her only response is to kiss him harder, at least until he feels her reach down and take him in hand. It’s too much to keep his concentration on the kiss when he feels her touch him like this. She strokes him a couple of times and all he can do is pant her name against her lips. It’s not long then before he feels her shift, raising her hips slightly, then she pulls back just far enough to look him in the eye. 

“Is this alright?” she asks. 

“Yes,” he replies, not entirely patiently. “ _Fasta vass_ . _Hawke, I…_ ” 

She smirks at his impatience and he strains up against her but the angle isn’t quite right. She repositions him at her entrance and looks him in the eyes once more. 

“Hawke,” he pleads again. 

The smirk slips from her lips as she sinks down onto him. Instead her lips part and tremble, likely mirroring his own expression as he feels her, hot and tight around him for the first time. She settles there a moment, adjusting, kissing him slow and deep before she slowly starts to move over him. 

If there were any lingering doubts over whether following Hawke up here was the right thing to do, they have faded to insignificance beneath the feeling of her. She is everywhere, surrounding him. Years on the run have trained him to be hyper-aware but in this moment he is aware only of her. He allows her to set the pace at first, too unused to this feeling to know what to do with it. But his body seems to know, even if his mind cannot swallow it. Soon he is meeting her movements with thrusts of his own. Hands gripping her hips, fingers digging into her flesh. It’s all so much. The feel of her skin, the sounds she makes, those short shallow breaths. The scent of her, almost enough to overwhelm all else. 

He moves his arm up to support her back, then pushes himself up. Hawke stops long enough to let him adjust them both into a comfortable position. She’s still seated on top of him but she’s closer like this, close enough to press his face to her neck. He drags his lips down over her skin, kissing, tasting her and when he drags his tongue over her pulse he’s almost undone by it. He moans her name again, uncertain if this time it’s a warning or some sort of prayer. 

Hawke holds on tight and grinds her hips against his. She looks down into his face through heavy lidded eyes for a moment then murmurs, “Do what you’ve got to do, Fenris, just - _fuck_ \- please don’t stop.” 

He can still taste her from the cut on her lip earlier. That’s what tempts him more than anything else. At least until he finds his mouth on her shoulder, sucking and licking at one spot on her skin, his fangs itching to break the surface. By this point he’s sure she wouldn’t even mind. He remembers the sight of her before, blood glistening on her lip, eyes dark with lust. And he can’t resist. It doesn’t even feel like giving in to his demon. He just wants it because it’s Hawke. Because he wants Hawke. And even right now, as she clutches close to him and he’s buried deep inside her, he still can’t get enough of her. He scrapes his fangs over her skin, just enough to draw blood. But the taste only spurs him on, it’s exquisite but still not enough. 

“Hawke… I want…” 

“Fuck—Fenris… just do it.” 

Her short fingernails bite into the skin of his back and he bites at the base of her neck. He bites deep and when her blood fills his mouth it’s pure wish-fulfillment, the likes of which he’s never even dreamed. He’s wanted her, wanted _this_ for far longer than he’s been willing to admit. And Hawke, she moans and shudders against him. He sucks harder and she bucks her hips faster and faster until eventually she stills and gasps as he continues on, the combination of her orgasm and the blood in his mouth dragging him closer to his own end. He comes with her blood on his lips and his face buried in her neck. 

For a long moment, they stay in place, tangled up together and breathing hard. Hawke is the first to move, pulling herself up off him. 

“Wow,” she mutters, pushing sweat drenched hair back from her face. “That was… not what I was expecting.” She brings her fingers down to trace lightly over the wound on her neck, and stares when they come away coated in blood. “ _Really_ not what I was expecting.” 

He could say the same for himself. In fact, now he wipes at his mouth and can’t quite believe it himself. 

She seems to sense his uncertainty and raises an eyebrow. “Not that I’m complaining.” 

Fenris doesn’t know how to respond. Until a moment ago he was wrapped up in Hawke to the point of forgetting all else. Now he feels himself crashing back to reality. He doesn’t know where this leaves them. Neither, it seems, does Hawke. 

They sit in uncertain silence for a moment before Hawke says, “I’m going to go clean up. I’ll, er, be back in a minute.” 

She gets up, unreserved in her nakedness, and heads for the door. There she plucks a red dressing gown off a hook on the back of it and throws it on before heading out to the bathroom on the opposite side of the landing. She closes the door behind her, and Fenris is left not knowing what she means for him to do. 

It is up to him, of course. Hawke is nothing if not respectful of his autonomy. 

But right now he’s not sure he knows what he wants. 

A few minutes ago, he’d been so certain. He’d wanted Hawke. He’d cared for little else. 

But now… well, it simply isn’t realistic to think they could… what? Be together? Even inside his head it sounds foolish. 

He shakes the thought away. Entirely foolish. 

Tonight was… not a mistake, exactly. It was more than he ever could have dreamed. But even so it cannot be repeated, he knows that. And when Hawke comes back to find him fully dressed, he can see in her faint look of relief that she knows it too. So they are on the same page at least. Good.

“Are you well?” he asks, his eyes fixed on the collar of her dressing gown. The mark from his bite is hidden beneath it, which he only realises now he should be glad for. He may have been caught up in the moment earlier but at least the results aren’t as glaringly obvious as they could be.

It happened though. It feels so unreal that he might doubt it if not for the way the taste of her lingers still. It was better than anything he’d ever dreamed. Certainly better than anything he’s been sustaining himself on since he came to this city. Or ever, perhaps. And that was just her blood. Her touch is another thing entirely. A thing he now knows but cannot keep. 

“Peachy,” she answers him and he has to wonder how real the confident smirk she gives him truly is. “That was… fun.”

He makes a small noise that is supposed to be agreement but he’s not sure how well it comes across. He doesn’t know what else to say. How to act. She doesn’t ask him to leave but Fenris knows it’s for the best that he does. 

At the door he turns just long enough to see something like a frown on her face but she wipes it away when she catches him looking and replaces it with a strange half smile. “Good night, Fenris.”

“Sleep well, Hawke,” he tells her. Then he forces himself to walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait for this chapter! I panicked a bit back when I first meant to post it then ended up overthinking everything and then putting off actually fixing any of it. I hope it was okay anyway. I haven't really written smut properly before so I'm nervous lol... The chapter title is from Portions For Foxes by Rilo Kiley. Thank you for reading!


	25. Hoodies and Housemates

Bethany and Lirene are already at the clinic when Anders arrives the next morning, late and still wearing the clothes Karl had lent him the night before. It’s extremely obvious. Anders feels strange clad in the soft blue jumper and grey trousers that clearly aren’t his but they’ll have to do for today. He feels worse about the loss of his coat, which is beyond repair. He loved that coat. But it was a small thing to sacrifice to get Karl back. 

Bethany isn’t with a patient so after talking to Lirene for a bit he goes straight through to his office where he finds her taking stock of the medical supplies in one of the cupboards. “You didn’t have to come in today, you know,” she tells him. “After last night, you must be exhausted.”

Anders looks at her in alarm, wondering if the clothes are really that much of a giveaway that he was up with Karl most of the night and didn’t get more than a couple hours of sleep. Then he realises that isn’t what she’s talking about. She means because of the rescue, which Garrett had surely told his siblings all about. He is exhausted actually but he can barely feel it past the elation of waking up at Karl’s side for the first time in over five years. It really must be obvious because a knowing look crosses Bethany’s face before he even gets his answer out. “It’s fine,” he tells her. “I wouldn’t feel right about neglecting my duties here.”

“I’d cover for you. Your health is important too.”

He waves her off as he heads over to the kettle in the corner to make himself a cup of strong coffee that he has to admit he does sort of need.

“So,” begins Bethany, “you look dead on your feet. But somehow… in a good way? You and Karl…?”

Anders can’t help the smile that gives him away. The entire night had been so much more than he’d had time to process. The bus ride from Hightown to the clinic has been the closest thing he’s had to a moment to reflect on it all and it was hardly enough. He’s getting ahead of himself completely but he honestly can’t remember the last time he felt this happy. His decision to let Karl bite him might have been risky but it had paid off. Karl had stopped when Anders needed him to. Justice hadn’t had to get involved. And afterwards the exchange had become something so tender and loving Anders hadn’t wanted it to end. 

He’s not planning to tell Bethany about the part where he’d let Karl feed on him, though—or the part where he’d enjoyed it. A lot. Even if the satisfaction he feels from it _is_ difficult to hide. It might be better to keep that between him and Karl. 

It’s all worked out so much better than he could have imagined. 

Still, getting ahead of himself there. He tries to slow down, telling her honestly, “It’s… I mean, I don’t really know what it is…”

“From the look on your face I’m guessing ‘wonderful’?”

Anders’ smile grows wider. “I can’t quite deny that…” Bethany smiles back at him with more understanding than he’d expected given the situation. “Shouldn’t you be a bit more freaked out? He’s… well, you know. I know this isn’t exactly normal.”

Bethany looks unconcerned. “I think we’ve all been having our views on what’s normal challenged lately. I met Fenris last night. He’s exactly as everyone said: perfectly amiable.”

Anders pulls a face. True, his opinion of Fenris has improved with his agreement to help Karl but still, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“My point is, Marian invited him over last night. To our house. We had drinks and chatted and it was… well, it was normal. It felt normal. And if my sister can do something like that then frankly, who’s to say that you being in a relationship with a vampire is actually that strange?”

“I don’t know if it’s as simple as that. You know I didn’t actually plan for the two of us to get back together. But last night, he was there and I’d missed him so much. I couldn’t really help myself.”

The kettle clicks as the water in it finishes boiling but Anders doesn’t move to make his coffee. He stares into the empty cup he pulled out and trails off. 

“But?” Bethany prompts softly.

“I don’t know how it’s going to work. Justice doesn’t like it. But if we really do have an opportunity to get back any of what we had before, I don’t think I’m willing to give that up. Which sort of puts me in an awkward position.”

Bethany gives him a concerned look. “I suppose it does… Justice really doesn’t approve?”

Anders’ eyebrows knit together while he thinks of a way to explain it. “I look at Karl and I see the man I fell in love with—maker, it must be eleven, twelve years ago now… And Justice—Justice _can_ see that too. But he also sees a demon. I don’t know what it’s going to take for him to see past that.”

“What are you going to do?”

Anders gives Bethany a tired smile. “We’ll figure it out. He’s back and I can help him now. That’s what matters most.”

Bethany places a hand on his arm and gives it a comforting squeeze. “I know that’s all you were really hoping for. I’m sure the rest will work out eventually too.”

Anders can only hope so. But he feels Justice’s displeasure lurking just beyond that tentative hope and all he can do to assuage the feeling for now is pour his coffee and get to work.

* * *

With the task of helping Anders find Karl out of the way, Garrett is left feeling a little unsure of what to do with himself. He sleeps in late—or, late by his standards, if not by his twin sister’s. Marian is nowhere to be seen when he does get up and he can only assume she’s still in bed. Bethany has already left for the clinic, while Merrill stayed at Isabela’s last night. So that leaves Garrett alone with Dog. 

Dog has turned out to be very good company because Maker knows he needed it last night. Bethany had put him to bed, brought him a glass of water then said good night to him and Garrett doesn’t think he could admit how much he hadn’t wanted to be left alone after that. But then Dog had jumped up onto the bed next to him. It still hadn’t been easy to sleep but it had helped not to be alone. He’d concentrated on dragging his fingers along the mabari’s short wiry fur and tried not to let himself recall too much of the night’s events. 

When morning comes, it gets a little easier to ignore. He spends a couple of hours just pottering around, listening to music, making himself a healthy brunch. Then he takes Dog for a long walk. It would have been nice to go to Sundermount for the afternoon but Bethany has the car, so he takes Dog out along the coast instead. The walk takes a few hours but Garrett doesn’t mind. He’s always liked the coast. The one by Kirkwall isn’t the prettiest but it does the job and helps clear his head. For a few hours at least.

He still tries not to think about Anders. Or, well, if he does think about him, he tries to think about being happy for him that things worked out so well with Karl. Anders deserves to be happy, after all, so it really doesn’t matter who it is making him feel that way as long as that’s what he gets. That’s what Garrett reminds himself.

When he gets back to the house, he gives Dog a bath and then he decides to make dinner, even though it isn’t his night for it. Bethany has been working at the clinic all day so it only seems fair.

He’s almost finished preparing the ingredients when Marian comes in and glares at him. He sighs and decides to ignore her. 

Apparently that was the wrong choice because eventually, she asks, “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” says Garrett.

“Really? We’re still doing this?”

“Doing what?”

Marian’s sigh is one of frustration. “I’m really not the right person for this sort of thing.”

Garrett keeps his focus on the squash he’s cutting up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He can almost feel Marian’s glare boring into him but after a long moment all she says is, “Fine. Whatever.” She waits a moment longer then asks, “Want to come out and punch a few vamps with me tonight?”

That is quite a bit easier to answer. “Sure. Who’s going? Fenris?”

He looks up at last to see Marian frown. “I think I can go for one night without pestering him. I’ll ask Merrill and Isabela if they’re up for it.”

Garrett nods and goes back to working in silence until a question occurs to him. “Does it feel different now? Hunting vampires? What with Fenris…”

“What about Fenris?” Marian asks stiffly.

“Well, you two are sort of close…”

She scowls. “Not really.”

“You even dress like him.” It’s true. Usually it’s just the all black thing that they both have going on but tonight Marian’s even added a black hoodie to her attire, which is usually more of a Fenris thing. 

Marian sees him looking at it and scowls harder. “Fuck off. I was cold. And this is _my_ hoodie.” 

Garrett just raises an eyebrow at her hostility then decides he can risk a little bit more. “You can admit that you like someone, you know. It’s allowed.”

“And you can admit that you’re upset about Anders,” Marian counters.

“Except that I’m actually fine. I’m just happy that Anders is happy.” Marian rolls her eyes. “My point is that we all like Fenris. And now Anders has Karl… I think we’re all beginning to realise that we don’t know as much about vampires as we thought we did. So where does that leave you with hunting them?”

“Exactly where I’ve always been. It doesn’t change anything. Most vampires don’t have anything human left in them. Fenris and Karl are rare exceptions. The rest still just feed and kill. Unless I stop them.”

“It just seems like it’s a bit more complicated now.”

“It’s not. What do you want me to do, stop and ask any vampire who comes at me on the street if they’d be willing to reconsider their lifestyle choices?” Her frown deepens. “To tell the truth, I’m not convinced about Karl. We don’t know anything about him. We can’t just assume we can trust him.”

“You? Not trusting someone? I’m shocked!” 

Garrett puts down the knife and raises his head to see his sister sneer at his sarcasm. But the expression shifts back into a frown as she asks, “What did you think?”

“Of Karl?” Garrett has to think about it. The part where Karl had him pinned to the ground while he tried to kill him hadn’t been the best first impression but that wasn’t really Karl’s fault. “Now that guy Decimus is dead, I don’t see why he shouldn’t be able to adjust the way Fenris has.” He’d certainly seemed nice enough since that point.

Marian doesn’t look entirely convinced but all she says is, “I guess we’ll see. I hope Anders is being careful anyway.”

“Right… me too.” Garrett doesn’t let himself dwell on that. It’s tangled up in too many other thoughts he’d rather keep at bay.

Garrett doesn’t know why he’s surprised when Anders shows up with Bethany a little while later. Perhaps he’d simply expected him to go back to being always busy. Busy with the clinic, with the Underground. With Karl.

But instead he’s suddenly there at the kitchen doorway, wearing a smile that’s no less warm for how tired it looks. There’s a surge of bittersweet feeling somewhere in Garrett’s chest at the sight of it. Marian is right about one thing, it seems: Garrett is an idiot. Had he really thought that these feelings would just go away the moment they became inconvenient? It had seemed so harmless before. Now it hurts. 

Shit. He’d been trying not to think about that.

He smiles. “Hey! You were at the clinic today? Do you ever take any time off?”

Bethany says, “You might want to save your breath there, Garrett. It’s a question I’ve asked many times.”

Anders shrugs. “My patients need me. It’s bad enough that we can’t be open all the time.”

“You can afford to take a morning off to catch up on sleep. You know if there was an emergency I’d call you.”

“That would require him actually owning a phone,” says Marian.

“And that would require having a steady income with which to pay for it,” answers Anders. “It’s fine, anyway. I don’t mind the work.”

Bethany sighs.

Garrett’s face hurts from smiling. He can probably stop now, he thinks. Can’t he? How obvious is he being?

“How was your day?” asks Anders. 

“Fine,” says Garrett. He doesn’t look at Marian. “How is Karl?”

“I think he’s still in shock over everything that happened last night. It’ll take a while to adjust. But I think he’s happy we got him out. I know I am. It’s still hard to believe…”

Garrett isn’t lying when he says he’s glad to hear it, that he’s happy for him. It’s true. It’s just… the soft look that Anders gets on his face when he talks about Karl—Garrett can hardly help it if he wishes it could be him making Anders look that way, can he? Nor can he help how it hurts that he isn’t and that all he can do now is accept that and move on.

He might also have to accept that his feelings for Anders are a lot stronger than he originally thought.

Or he could just keep denying it. One or the other.

* * *

Tonight, Fenris thinks, would ideally be a good night not to have a new housemate. But, given that ideal is not a word he’s ever used to describe his life, he figures he can make do with living with Karl. The man is quiet, after all. Fenris doesn’t sleep much after returning from Hawke’s house and there is no sound from the other vampire throughout the day. He doesn’t leave his room even once.

Fenris doesn’t think much of it. He has other things on his mind tonight. Despite sleeping little, he makes no rush to get up. His thoughts are of Hawke, which is no surprise. It's difficult to feel as though he's made a mistake when the experience had been such a thoroughly enjoyable one. But now that hours have passed and sobriety has returned and the thoughts of her—how she’d felt, how she'd tasted—still won’t leave him, he fears this may be something he'll come to regret. 

He wonders how people are supposed to feel about such things. The feeling of wanting Hawke was something he'd barely allowed himself to acknowledge until he'd given into it. But it had been there. Weeks of wondering followed by an all too brief night of surrender and all the pleasures that came with it. And what next? Should he simply pretend it never happened? Is that what Hawke would want? 

He could pretend, most likely, but he doesn’t think he could forget. Perhaps If it had just been sex it would be different. But he'd bitten her. And the way she’d tasted... Fenris hadn’t known it could be like that. He’s known the satisfaction of feeding after long periods of hunger. But even that is nothing like the feeling of drinking from someone he wants the way he wants Hawke. 

He's so used to letting the Demon take over, to not thinking about that part of him. Of what Danarius had made him. 

Fenris had stood by so many times while Danarius indulged in the finest blood Tevinter had to offer. His former master had reveled in it, in giving over entirely to the demon in him in a way Fenris never could. After making his escape, Fenris had no reason left to hold back. But he'd done so anyway. Out of habit at first and then because it has been a way of distancing himself from the life he'd left behind. Because he had seen what vampires were supposed to be and wanted something different for himself. 

So now he thinks of the pleasure he had taken in the taste of Hawke’s blood and isn’t sure how he feels about it. But he still can’t get the memories to leave him be. 

He gets out of bed much later than usual and gives it very little consideration before heading down to the cellar and picking out a bottle of agreggio. Perhaps it will help to slow his racing thoughts. If it had all seemed far easier last night then perhaps there’s something to be said for recreating some of the circumstances. Maybe not all of them though. Whether or not Hawke will call tonight is something he tries not to think about. As is what he will say if she does. Will they talk about what happened, or pretend it didn’t happen at all? 

When Fenris hears the knock on the front door his first thought makes him freeze. Because while he thinks going back to the way things have always been with Hawke may be something he can live with, this is too soon. He hasn’t had time enough to process yet.

But then he hears the faint, impatient, “Oh come on,” that is unmistakably Anders and he scowls at the empty room. One thing he probably should have anticipated, perhaps, instead of failing so miserably at not thinking about Hawke, is that while Karl may be an ideal housemate alone, he unfortunately comes as a package deal. 

Why did Fenris agree to this again?

He gets the door and then wishes he hadn’t bothered when instead of greeting him, Anders just raises an eyebrow at the bottle Fenris has foolishly brought with him and asks, “Isn’t it technically still morning for you?”

Fenris glares at him but Anders looks unconcerned. In fact, his gaze settles on something behind Fenris and when it does, his face transforms. Anders doesn’t even look at Fenris again as he steps inside and goes to Karl, who has appeared at the top of the stairs. 

Fenris lets out a quiet “Hmph,” and shuts the door after Anders. When he turns, it’s just in time to see Anders greet Karl with a kiss. He tries not to have an opinion on that. It’s not any of his business. And he’s hardly in any position to make judgements about relationships between vampires and mortals after last night. 

Not that what he and Hawke have is a relationship. It won’t happen again after all. It shouldn’t happen again…

Ignoring the two others, he goes back to the sitting room with his wine. He’s left in peace, or _relative_ peace, for perhaps five minutes before Anders comes charging in.

“Are you aware of the state your kitchen is in?”

“It’s not my kitchen,” says Fenris.

“But you _live_ here. And it’s—the window is broken. There’s bird shit on the counters and Maker knows what else.” Fenris stares at him. “You don’t have a problem with that?”

“Evidently not as much as you do.”

Anders looks appalled. “It’s unsanitary!”

“Says the man who runs a clinic out of an old sewer.”

“That’s different! At least I clean my clinic.”

Fenris finds he really doesn’t care enough to argue. He’d agreed to let Karl stay here, to let Anders be there for him. But, he thinks moodily, he doesn’t recall agreeing to _this_.

“There’s not that much use for a kitchen, I suppose,” says Karl, who appeared behind Anders sometime after he started ranting. “Neither of us really need to eat.”

“I know that. But what if you just wanted a glass of water?”

“The wine cellar is well stocked.”

Anders gives Fenris a deeply sarcastic look at that. “Really not the same thing.” 

Fenris shrugs and takes another drink. He settles back in his chair before telling him, “If you wish to rectify the situation, I won’t stop you. I suppose you might as well do so if _this_ ”—he gestures between Anders and Karl—“is happening now.”

Anders bristles. “Do you have a problem?”

“I truly do not care.”

“Because I don’t think you’re in any position to judge. I’ve seen the way you look at Hawke.”

Fenris is finally starting to lose his patience. “Do you not think the jealousy a little much given that your lover stands right beside you?”

Anders’ eyes go wide at that. “What? I—”

“Anders,” says Karl calmly, “perhaps we should tackle the kitchen another evening and leave Fenris be.” Then he looks at Fenris and adds, “It’s really not an issue. I’m just grateful for your hospitality.”

“This is what vampires call hospitality? I hadn’t realised.” Karl gives Anders a warning look. To which Anders holds his hands up in a defensive gesture.

“I mean it,” Karl tells Fenris.

“Then,” says Fenris awkwardly, “you are welcome.”

Karl guides Anders from the room. As they leave, Anders is saying, “You know I’m not—I mean, Hawke is important to me, yes…”

Fenris hears Karl sigh. “Anders, it’s fine.”

He rolls his eyes and goes back to his wine.

It’s far from the last he sees of either of them but several nights pass before Fenris has the opportunity to speak to Karl alone. He comes in late one evening after going out with Anders and Fenris catches him in the hallway.

“Your shadow is missing,” he comments.

Karl gives him a weak smile in return. “I managed to convince him to go home and get some sleep. He’s been running himself ragged between the clinic and well…” he tails off uncomfortably and Fenris knows what it is he doesn’t say.

“You’ve been feeding on him.” He would not have brought it up but he’s been thinking about his promise to help Karl adjust to life without his clan. Some discussion of the subject may be necessary. 

Karl frowns and keeps his gaze on the floor as he answers in a quiet voice, “I know I need to stop.” As though it is Fenris’ place to judge.

“Is he in danger?”

“Anders doesn’t seem to think so. And I believe him when he says he could defend himself if he needed to… But he’s exhausted and I haven’t refused his offers to help as often as I should. I try but… I don’t know how you do it. Surrounding yourself with mortals… How do you resist them?”

Fenris does not want to talk about it. But, though it was against his better judgement, he agreed to this. “I’ve had practice. My former master often enjoyed making me go for long periods without feeding. He would wait until I was near mad with starvation and then set me upon his enemies. Always making sure there was an audience so all would know to fear him.”

The story is enough to tear Karl’s focus away from the carpet. He stares directly at Fenris instead, enough shock written across his face to suggest that whatever similar experiences they may have been through, this is not one of them. “That’s awful!”

“As effective as it was, it is not something I would expect you to emulate.”

“No,” breathes Karl. “Decimus was not a good man. He cared little for anything beyond his own goals but he wasn’t deliberately cruel like that.”

The words mean little to Fenris. He does not linger upon them. “Go out and hunt regularly. Do not rely entirely on Anders. If necessary, blood from other vampires will sustain you for a time in place of mortal blood. It is all I can suggest.”

Karl nods but doesn’t appear any less troubled. Again, Fenris wonders what Anders had expected him to be able to do. 

“Thank you for speaking with me. I’ll leave you for now.”

After disappearing into his room, Fenris doesn’t hear anything from him for the rest of the night.

* * *

Anders thinks he’s starting to get used to it. To being bitten, that is. Not that it’s becoming boring. But while the first time had been thrilling, he can’t deny he’d had some uncertainty about it. As much as Anders trusted him, Karl had been so sure it wasn’t safe. Anders might have known that Justice would protect him but he didn’t want it to come to that. He wanted to prove to the spirit that this could work. He’s not quite sure what Justice makes of his methods but now that he’s gained a bit more confidence, Anders can at least say he’s enjoying them.

He’s tried not to make too much of a habit of it. The blood loss could become dangerous if he isn’t careful about it. It worries Karl and Justice and he doesn’t want to do that to either of them. He tries to encourage Karl to go out and hunt the way Fenris does. And sometimes, though he knows it’s far from ideal, he can bring blood bags from the clinic. 

But there’s just something about letting Karl feed from him. It’s the intimacy of the act. Karl is always so careful and the way he draws it out with tender kisses and hands sweeping over bare skin, clutching him tight. It makes him feel safe. It reminds him far too easily of sex but then that’s probably because that’s where it’s ended up every time. He’s drawn deep into the hypnotic sensation of the blood drawn steadily out of him and he can’t keep his body from reacting. He’s left begging for Karl to touch him. And he does. 

Another night and Anders sees that look in Karl’s eyes that says he wants him. He can hardly resist that look, though some nights he knows he has to try. It’s not fair to put it all on Karl to stay away. But it’s been a few days since the last time and he’s already caught up in the moment. He’s sat astride Karl on their bed and Karl’s hands are grabbing his thighs. Anders breaks off the kiss, panting as Karl stares up at him. Anders knows what he wants. 

He sits up straight then undoes the last few buttons of his shirt and shrugs it off, tossing it out of the way so he won’t have to worry about it getting stained. He starts to tug Karl up towards him to do the same with him, partly for the same reasons but mostly because it’s more fun that way. 

Karl knows just as easily what Anders is thinking. “I shouldn't,'' he murmurs. 

Anders pulls back from where he’s leaned in to kiss Karl’s shoulder. “It’s fine,” he says soothingly. “I feel good.”

“For how long though?” He’s frowning but the temptation he feels is palpable, as it always is. 

“I’ll bring you some from the clinic tomorrow. To tide you over. Or just to keep on hand so we don’t get carried away again.” There should be a batch of bagged blood that expires soon. It will be fine if he brings it for Karl, especially if Karl goes out to hunt and they keep the blood bags for an emergency. 

“We?” Karl gives him a wry smile.

Anders shrugs and grins crookedly back at him. “It should be fairly obvious by now that I’m enjoying myself when we do this.”

Apparently, that’s all the encouragement Karl needs. He kisses along Anders’ jaw and the soft vibration of his laughter when Anders goes for the waistband of his trousers is enough to tickle slightly. “Just enhancing the experience,” Anders explains. He pulls back and it’s good to see him smiling. He’s been worrying far too much since they started doing this.

Karl allows him to continue and not long after Anders is on his back against the bed with Karl hovering over him, kissing his way up his chest, sucking little marks into his skin, to the point where Anders is already writhing before he even reaches his neck. It’s so effortless with Karl, because while a lot of this is new, Karl already knows him. Even after so long apart they still remember each other’s bodies and it’s not much more to figure out how to make this enjoyable. Perhaps that’s why Anders likes it so much.

When Karl bites him he feels it so intensely he almost cries out. But not wanting to worry Karl or do anything to make it stop, he bites his lip instead, clutches Karl to him as he drinks. He doesn’t understand how it feels this good but it really does. It doesn’t last long, which is a good sign as it shows Karl is still in control. Anders can deal with a little bit of moderation if it means Karl is okay. Besides, it doesn’t mean the fun is over.

Karl heals the wound for him when he’s done and then places a kiss over the spot as if to thank him. Then he continues his thanks using other, though not dissimilar methods. After the bite, every touch feels heightened in the best way and he does cry out when Karl eventually takes him. He reaches out to clasp his hand tight because he can’t find the words to say that he never wants this to stop. But perhaps he understands because Karl leans down and kisses him. The taste is a little strange but Anders doesn’t care. Just so long as it’s him it’s what he wants. All of it.

The next night, Anders brings the blood bags he’d promised back from the clinic. Karl thanks him and though he smiles there’s something in his eyes that makes Anders uncertain. He suggests that he go out to hunt because this will keep for now. It was the best thing he could do according to Fenris, after all. Karl agrees. But then he suggests that Anders go back home and get a decent night’s sleep. He’s said that a few times now and Anders doesn’t know how to tell him that he hates sleeping alone. It doesn’t seem fair to try to force him into an unnatural sleep schedule just so Anders can feel him next to him. He doesn’t say anything. He thinks of the night before and how good it had been and how at certain points it had felt like progress. If Karl needs a little bit of space every now and then perhaps he should give it. Or if it’s really just about Anders perhaps the best way to reassure him is to do as he asks. 

So he does. At least that keeps Justice happy too. Sort of. He just wishes their compromise didn’t have to be such a lonely one.


	26. Ruins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from the First Aid Kit song, [Ruins](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjXBzatpTY4&ab_channel=FirstAidKit-Topic). Thank you for reading!

Garrett and Bethany have the house to themselves again when Garrett finally comes out with it: “I think I’m going to head back to Ferelden for a bit. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it.”

Bethany looks up from her book and it’s obvious she’s disappointed. 

“Oh… but I was just getting used to having you around,” she says with a sad half smile.

He hadn’t wanted it to come to this. He really had wanted to try. But he never had been any good at resisting this restless feeling that’s come over him in the past few weeks. “Sorry, I just… I’m not really sure what I’m doing here anymore. I’m starting to feel a bit… stuck.”

“And Ferelden’s going to help with that?” Bethany doesn’t sound doubtful. It’s just a question. Probably a good one.

“Um… yeah? I guess. I’ve been talking to a friend in Redcliffe who I haven’t seen in a while. I thought I might pay her a visit. We talked about going hiking. The Hinterlands are really pretty in autumn, remember?”

“Yeah,” says Bethany softly, “I remember. It’s strange to think how different our childhood was. Sometimes I really do think Dad had the right idea getting out of the city.”

“You already know I think so. It was the best place we could have grown up. We used to go months without seeing a single templar.”

“True. It feels like they’re everywhere here.”

Garrett watches Bethany’s wistful expression, knowing she’s recalling the same memories as him, of the cottage they’d grown up in back in Lothering. The four of them, playing in the woods nearby. He knows those memories are bittersweet now that Carver’s gone. But that doesn’t mean Bethany has to keep their former home in her past.

“You could come with me,” he tells her. “Wouldn’t it be good to see it all again?”

Bethany’s smile is still a little sad. “Perhaps. But I can’t. Anders needs me at the clinic.”

“Oh,” says Garrett quietly. He hasn’t seen Anders in a while. Perhaps he hasn’t been coming by the house or perhaps they’ve just kept missing each other. Either way he’s been far from absent from Garrett’s thoughts. As much as he’s tried to pretend otherwise, to both himself and everyone else.

It’s probably better this way; Anders being where Garrett isn’t. He doesn’t need Garrett trying to steal away his attention now that he and Karl can finally be together again.

“How is he?”

“Exhausted,” sighs Bethany. “But I think I might be able to convince him to take a day off sometime soon.”

Garrett frowns. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“He’s just overworking himself, as usual. Maybe he just needs to find a balance between work and having Karl around.”

“Ah… I guess so.” Garrett doesn’t really know what to say. Suddenly, he feels terrible that he hasn’t checked on Anders himself. He misses him.

“Don’t worry. We’ll look after him while you’re gone,” says Bethany. Garrett gives her a somewhat half-hearted smile in response and she looks sympathetic. “You know, I understand you needing some space to figure things out. It makes sense. I know you really liked him.”

Garrett raises an eyebrow. “You’re sounding a lot more supportive about that now that we know nothing is going to come of it.”

“I was just trying to look out for my friend. But maybe I should have realised you’d be the one to get your heart broken.” 

The words are softly spoken but that doesn’t stop Garrett’s eyes from widening as he immediately starts to protest, “Okay, Bethy, that’s just—I mean, it’s ridiculous. I’ve only known him for a month. I was hardly…” His throat tightens strangely. He can’t make himself finish the sentence: _I’m not in love with him._ It _is_ ridiculous. And he isn’t. It’s just a crush. And he’s going to Ferelden to visit a friend, not because he can’t be in the same city as Anders. 

“It would be sort of like you…”

“Why does everyone seem to think that? I had one bad break up ten years ago and now everyone thinks I’m some kind of fragile flower.”

Bethany sighs again.

“I’m not being dramatic. I’m perfectly—”

“If you say ‘ _fine’_...”

It’s strange and a little bit startling how suddenly it hits him that perhaps the one being ridiculous here is him. Honestly? Garrett knows he’s not fooling anyone. But he also knows he’s not going to convince himself without attempting to convince everyone else too. In that moment, he finally accepts that he has failed all around.

“Shit… I’m not fine Bethy… I feel like an idiot. I think I liked him more than I even realised.”

Garrett doesn’t think he’d known how much until Anders had hugged him that night after finding Karl and Garrett had wanted to just keep holding on. It wasn’t fair that a hug could feel like that. Like everything he wanted right there in one moment. After which he’d had no choice but to walk away. 

He hears Bethany’s footsteps, then feels the sofa cushion dip next to him and his sister’s arm go around his shoulder. “It’s okay, Garrett.”

“No… it’s really fucking stupid actually.”

Bethany pulls him closer into her side. “Just go and visit your friend for a bit. Take your mind off it. You will feel better.”

“Yeah… I guess that’s the idea.”

It will be better than sitting around here, feeling useless and cooped up and fairly pitiful. He just needs a change of scenery and he’ll be himself in no time. 

“Don’t tell anyone yet, okay? I’m kind of… not looking forward to Marian’s reaction to me taking off again. And it’ll be worse if she hears it from anyone but me.”

Bethany gives him a knowing look. “Yeah, okay. You’re right, I’d really rather not be around for that conversation when it happens.”

Garrett manages a small laugh. “Thanks for the support.”

Bethany smirks back at him. “Just promise you’ll come back sooner this time. I’m going to miss you.”

* * *

Marian isn’t sure what to do regarding Fenris. Nearly two weeks have passed since the night they spent together and neither has made any attempt to contact the other. It had seemed necessary at first to give him some space but now she wonders if she’s waited too long. Perhaps she has made it worse. She really isn’t any good with this sort of thing. Feelings, that is. Not that she has feelings for Fenris. Well, besides the lustful sort. But hopefully those will all be dealt with by now. The mystery gone—or, if not, then at least they know now not to be alone together at each other’s houses with alcohol. 

Now that some time has passed, Marian figures that there’s no real reason they shouldn’t be able to go back to a more businesslike relationship. She does have several promises to keep with him after all. She’s fairly certain they’re on the same page at least. 

Perhaps she should have behaved as though nothing had happened from the start. 

Marian sighs and thinks about how Isabela would know what to do. This is definitely more her area of expertise. 

But when the door to the living room opens, it’s not Isabela she gets but Garrett. 

“Aren’t you usually out by now?” he asks. 

She shrugs. “Maybe?”

Garrett leans against the doorframe and looks down at her appraisingly. She doesn’t appreciate it. She wonders what he’d think if she was the one giving him that look. He redeems himself, at least, by not saying whatever it is he’s thinking. He tells her, “I’m free tonight if you want anyone to head out with you.”

“Sure,” she tells him. Then because it’s about time she got this over with, “I was just going to stop by Fenris’ first.”

Garrett looks surprised, then slightly panicked. It would be comical if it weren’t so pathetic. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to make you go inside. You won’t actually have to see him.” _‘Him’_ being Anders of course. She’s fairly certain Garrett picks up on that. Since it’s so obviously where his thoughts immediately went.

He lets out a short, awkward laugh and says only, “Right…”

She’d been expecting him to bluff and insist that he doesn’t mind. That he’s fine. But instead he just glances away and the look on his face is sadder than he’s let it be all week.

She feels sorry for him then. If only a little. He did walk right into the situation with both eyes wide open, after all. She doesn’t really know what to say. Garrett catches her frowning and visibly snaps himself out of it. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Ready now,” Marian mutters. She turns off the TV and goes to grab her boots and jacket.

They’re on their way to Fenris’ mansion when Garrett comes out with, “I was starting to get the impression you were avoiding Fenris, actually.”

Marian feels herself tense up at the statement but she tries not to let it show. “No.”

“Really? You were out with him every day at one point. But as far as I know you haven’t seen him all week.”

“As far as you know.”

“Well, am I wrong?”

Marian sighs; a quick impatient sound. “No. But we’re going to see him now.”

Garrett seems to get the message and drops it. They walk in silence the rest of the way. 

At Fenris’ front door, she can see the strain of Garrett’s attempt to look unaffected as she knocks. She doesn’t understand how it could be that bad. What if Anders did answer the door? It’s not like the world would implode.

It’s not Anders that answers but Fenris, cautious as ever as he opens the door a crack, body tense, on alert in case there’s any danger. When he sees Marian, he relaxes only slightly. It’s only then that she realises how distracted she’d been by Garrett’s behaviour. She hadn’t thought about what she was going to say once he answered. It’s the first she’s seen of him since he’d slunk out of her room a few hours before dawn the other week. Now she looks at him and the weeks long absence has made her forget how intense his gaze can be on those rare occasions it meets hers. And she still hasn’t figured out the best way to handle this. 

What would Isabela do? Probably nothing that Marian could ever hope to imitate. Scratch that thought. The only thing she can do now is wing it.

“Hey, you up for patrolling tonight?”

He doesn’t look surprised by the question. At least, no more than he had done seeing her at all. Instead, he glances at Garrett, who gives him a small wave, then back to her. He nods. “Let me get my jacket.”

He rejoins them a moment later. They both catch Garrett casting what can only be described as a longing look back at the house.

“Anders is inside if you wish to speak with him,” Fenris tells him. 

Garrett laughs; a clear attempt to hide his discomfort that only sounds more uncomfortable, so unlike his usual laughs. “Better not,” is all he tells them.

They begin the patrol as they usually do, by heading towards Lowtown. Neither of Marian’s companions seem to have anything to say. It’s unsurprising from Fenris, but from Garrett… Well, she knows she shouldn’t feel irritated but she can’t quite help it. She’d been counting on him to fill any awkward silence, not to make it worse. He’s been off ever since this business with Anders but tonight it’s worse than usual.

Marian lets out an annoyed huff and resolves to ask him about it when they get home later. 

Then she turns to Fenris. If he’s feeling anywhere near as awkward as she is then he’s hiding it well. It helps. She decides to risk some light conversation. “How has it been having a new housemate?”

He looks at the ground as he replies, “It is not what I’m used to. But then my circumstances have changed so often over the past few years, I suppose I’ve become good at adapting.”

“Oh, yeah, I had the same problem when Anders came to live with us.”

Fenris snorts softly but says nothing. Still it’s good to see that smirk of his again. Marian finds herself smirking back at him. Then she reminds herself that it’s not a particularly helpful line of thought if she’s meant to be distancing herself from him, while maintaining a working relationship. Maker’s ass, she’s an idiot. What was she thinking inviting him over that night? Especially after how things had gone the night before. 

But then, does she even really regret it? It wasn’t as though it was a bad night. Just inconvenient. And suddenly she’s angry at herself. She’s had casual sex before. There is no need to feel so flustered over this instance of it.

She tries to think of a way to continue the conversation without giving herself away but, looking up, she sees Garrett frowning at her. Because of course he is. And she hadn't even meant anything by that comment about Anders but he still feels the need to retaliate on his behalf by saying, “Perhaps you should tell Fenris about that. Why was Anders moving in so uncomfortable for you again?”

The _ass_. And she’d been trying to be nice to him!

She glares at Garrett but still manages to catch Fenris’ questioning look. “It’s nothing. Garrett’s just being an idiot as usual.” She tries to steer the conversation back to safer ground by asking, “So he’s really just living there now?”

Fenris, thankfully, doesn’t seem too suspicious. But then it’s easy to imagine that when she refuses to actually look at him.

“It appears so.”

Garrett finally decides to stop being difficult and asks, “How’s Karl been adjusting? Do you know?”

“It’s difficult to say for certain,” Fenris answers slowly. “He is quiet. He keeps to his room. Unless Anders is around, in which case they are together and I still see little of them.”

“I thought you were supposed to be giving him vampire lessons,” says Marian. “Or ‘good vampire’ lessons. Whatever.”

“Your ability to simplify things is as impressive as ever, I see,” replies Fenris.

“I try. If we all had Garrett’s ability to over-complicate everything I don’t know where we’d be right now.”

“That might actually be a fair point,” Garrett allows, to her surprise. Then, sounding slightly more serious, he asks, “But you’d know if there were any problems wouldn’t you?”

Marian chances another look at Fenris to take in the thoughtful frown that has appeared on his face. “I have advised him. Time will tell if that proves to be enough. Until then I will keep watch.”

Garrett nods, equally thoughtfully and perhaps slightly relieved. “Okay… It’s good to know he has people looking out for him.” 

And that’s her brother all over, always thinking about others, even when he’s clearly hurting. The thought summons a particular begrudging affection that seems to be reserved only for her twin. He’s an idiot but she does sort of love him for it.

At least until he takes a deep breath and announces, “I’m going to Ferelden.”

He says it so out of the blue that Marian’s almost sure she’s misheard. She stops walking and Garrett, clearly expecting some sort of reaction, stops too. Fenris follows suit, saying nothing. His eyes flicker from Garrett to Marian uncertainly as though not sure if this is a conversation he should be involved in.

“You’re leaving.”

“Yeah… I kind of… feel like it’s time for a change.” She can see the apprehension in his expression, like he’s waiting for her to get mad. She doesn’t think she feels angry though. The suddenness of the announcement has thrown her a little but if she thinks about it, she’s not actually surprised. There’s that same bitterness that’s stirred up every time Garrett takes off like this but that’s nothing new now. She lets out a breath. “Okay.”

“That’s it?” says Garrett.

“What else do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know… I just thought you’d have more of an opinion.” 

“I guess I’m surprised it took you this long?” she offers. Garrett doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at her. “What? Do you want me to talk you out of it or something?”

“No… I think this might be the best thing to do right now.”

She wants to ask him if it’s really that bad. Certainly, she had anticipated him leaving but it hits her now what an excessive reaction to the situation with Anders it is to pack up and go to another country. But she doesn’t know what to say because Fenris is still there with them and she’s not sure how much he’d appreciate them using patrol time to have a heart-to-heart. Perhaps Garrett planned it this way. It’s probably why he waited until Fenris was with them to say anything. Well, that and because he was clearly so sure she was going to take the news the wrong way. 

He’s sneaky, she’ll give him that.

But for now she just sighs again. “If you’re sure.”

“Yeah…” Garrett nods. “I am.”

“Alright…” She wonders if the fact that she’s not getting angry in the way Garrett expected means she’s maturing. Then she glances at Fenris and thinks maybe not. 

Fenris has his gaze averted but maybe he feels her eyes on him because he looks up and raises an eyebrow. She looks away. “Let’s keep moving.”

* * *

Anders finds Karl in his room, as he always does upon returning to the clinic for the evening. He’s not sure if Karl ever actually leaves. He never seems to occupy any other space within the house. It’s been a little over two weeks since they brought him here. In that time Anders has slept in his own bed back at the Hawke estate a handful of times but any other time he’s not at the clinic he spends here. They’ve found ways to make the place more comfortable to live in. Brought changes of clothes, cleaned the mess in the kitchen and boarded up the broken window. It gave them reason to get out of the room they’ve been sharing. Sometimes Anders convinces Karl to go for walks. Though they haven’t done that for a few days now. Karl hasn’t wanted to and Anders is exhausted anyway.

Since settling into a routine of coming back here after work, Anders has begun several attempts to appease Justice by working on his manifesto here. He’d set up a work space in the corner of the room and stayed up late into the night writing. For the most part it seems to be working. Karl is a good person to bounce ideas off of. He’s suffered at the hands of the Templars even more than Anders. Hearing his first hand experience of life in the Gallows is difficult but it gives Anders a lot to work with and Karl agrees to let him use what he needs. He feels as though he’s really making progress. 

And yet, he still isn’t sure if it’s enough. Justice is unsettled. Karl doesn’t seem any better.

It’s like that tonight as he steps into the room and Karl doesn’t look up from his book. His eyes are unfocused in a way that suggests he isn’t even reading. He doesn’t move until Anders gently calls his name.

“When did you...?”

“Just now,” says Anders softly. He steps over to Karl and kneels beside his chair. He places a hand on his arm.

“You seem troubled, love.” The endearment just sort of slips out. It’s happened a few times over the past week. Things don’t feel the way they did during their time in Ferelden but that doesn’t change the way he feels about Karl. It just makes it awkward when he does slip into a pale imitation of their past life together. Karl moves away from Anders’ touch and gives him an unconvincing half smile as he does. “I’m fine. You should be worrying about yourself. You look tired. Have you eaten?”

Anders nods, trying not to look hurt by Karl’s unwillingness to touch him.

“I picked something up on the way here,” he mumbles. He should get up, go to his desk and begin the evening’s work but he doesn’t. He can try not to be hurt. But it doesn’t work. It’s been like this the past few days. Anders remembers telling Bethany that he didn’t know what he and Karl were now. He’d been more right about that than he realised at the time. Karl has been withdrawing from him and Anders wants to be understanding—Karl has been through a lot—but it’s difficult. Perhaps because he can’t understand what Karl is going through. He’d thought Justice might give them some common ground but not so. He can’t deny, Justice has adapted to the world of mortals far better than Karl’s demon seems able to. The comparison alone irritates Justice and perhaps he’s right. They really aren’t comparable. 

Anders thinks of those first few nights when Karl was returned to him, where they’d fallen into each other’s arms and done their best to make up for the time they were separated. He wants to feel that they were worth it. But he can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt now that Karl has denied him his touch again. He’d thought they’d figure things out over time but so far Anders is only growing more confused.

“How about you?” he tries, eyes fixed on Karl’s face even though Karl won’t meet them.

“I had some of what you brought me. There’s only a little left. I might go out later if I need to.”

The blood bags Anders had brought him were supposed to be for an emergency but Anders doesn’t mention it. He doesn’t want to push. He knows this isn’t easy for him. And he gets the impression Karl isn’t in the mood to talk anyway so he gets to his feet and goes to his desk. Justice urges him to focus and he’s glad for the spirit’s presence. It makes moments like this easier to just let what Justice wants take precedence. He works until he’s distracted by a noise from downstairs. When he looks up he sees that Karl hasn’t moved from that same spot. Anders isn’t sure if he’s made any progress with his book. And now he feels guilty for letting Justice distract him when it’s obvious that Karl isn’t okay. He doesn’t know how to fix it though. He keeps trying but nothing seems to help.

There’s more noise downstairs and this time he recognises the voice calling up to him. “Anders? You here?”

He’s surprised because if he’d been asked to put money on which of his friends would be first to visit him here, it wouldn’t have been Isabela.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” he tells Karl reluctantly. Then he gets up and goes in search of Isabela. By the time he finds her, she’s found Fenris. It’s oddly surprising to see them talking together. In the time he’s been focused on finding Karl, they’ve clearly become friends. 

As he approaches, Isabela looks up and gives him her customary smirk. “So you are here. We were beginning to wonder if we’d ever see you again.”

Anders raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t think I’d been gone that long.”

“Long enough. We’ve all been wondering when we get to meet your boyfriend. Properly that is.”

He tries not to wince at the word. Anders really isn’t sure that’s what Karl is to him now. No matter how he wishes it could be that simple.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea just yet. The adjustment process has been hard on him.”

“Then let’s make it easier. Bring him out for drinks tomorrow night.”

That sounds like a terrible idea. Anders tries to tell her so but doesn’t get further than, “I don’t think…”

“Before you say no. I should probably mention that it’s sort of a leaving party. For Garrett. He’s heading off to Ferelden at the end of the week and I thought it would be a good opportunity for us all to blow off some steam.”

“Garrett’s leaving?” Anders repeats. His stomach drops in a way he hadn’t expected. “He didn’t say anything.”

“Well, have you seen him at all this week?”

“No… I’ve been busy.” He’d been preoccupied with Karl and Garrett hadn’t sought him out so they just hadn’t seen each other. If he was being honest then he’d wondered about it. Wondered if he’d been wrong to think they might still get to be friends after everything Garrett had seen the night they rescued Karl. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was too much for him, seeing what Justice could do, witnessing him coming forth in a form that always felt more like Vengeance than anything else. It should be enough to scare anyone off. Anders had worked hard not to dwell on how much that thought hurt. It was to be expected.

“You should come.”

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea.” 

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Isabela groans. “So he fancied you and you had to let him down. It’s hardly something to get worked up over.” 

“Are we simply ignoring the part where he’s subsequently leaving to an entirely different country?” asks Fenris dryly.

“What?” says Anders, his eyes widening in alarm. “He’s not—not because of…”

“No,” says Isabela, throwing a glare in Fenris’ direction. “He’s not. That’s just what Garrett does. He travels. Because it’s fun. You really don’t need to read that far into it.”

Isabela’s explanation certainly makes a lot more sense than Fenris’ does. Garrett might only have stuck around as long as he did because he’d made a promise to Anders and now it’s fulfilled he has no real reason to stay. He can still come back and visit his family whenever he wants.

“I’m not here to tell you what to do but I think he’d appreciate you being there.”

“I… alright. I’ll think about it.”

Isabela sighs. “Fine. What about you?”

Fenris’ eyebrows go up as she turns to him. “Why would I come?”

“What do you mean, ‘ _why_ ’? I’m _inviting_ you.”

Fenris doesn’t look convinced. “I’m not sure I would be welcome.”

“The pair of you are impossible! Can you stop being all doom and gloom for one night and come out and have some fun?”

Fenris frowns at her exasperation. But his answer is, “I’ll consider it.”

Isabela doesn’t look terribly appeased. “That’s the best I’m going to get, isn’t it? Ugh. Just meet us at The Hanged Man tomorrow night. If you can fit us in between all of the brooding both of you have planned.”

And, with that, she goes. 

Anders and Fenris look at each other and for a moment, Anders thinks Fenris might be about to say something to him. He hesitates but then turns away without saying anything and leaves Anders to return to Karl. 

When he gets back upstairs, Karl is standing in the doorway to his—their?—room. 

“You should go,” he says gently. 

“You heard that, did you?”

Karl lifts one shoulder then lets it drop. “My hearing is pretty good these days.”

Anders can’t think of a reply. He hovers near the door, taking in the sight of Karl. At least he looks slightly more animated now. Though he’s not sure that’s saying much.

“You don’t want to join them tomorrow?” Karl asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe? But I’m not sure if Garrett even wants me there. After everything he saw me do… I know I scared him that night.”

He’s been trying not to think of it because remembering the fear in Garrett’s eyes, as he’d so hesitantly approached once Justice relinquished control, hurts in an almost physical way. And that on top of the careful distance Karl has put between them… He can’t stop his face from crumpling. He grits his teeth and tries to hold it all back but it hurts that Karl can be right there and yet so far out of reach.

“Anders?” 

“Karl, tell me what’s wrong.”

Karl raises an eyebrow. “I was going to ask that of you.”

Anders doesn’t know what to say. He moves forward, meeting Karl in the doorway and stepping into the room. He closes the door then reaches out to him. Karl seems uncertain but doesn’t stop Anders from taking his hand. “Is this okay?”

“Anders…” Karl says, like a warning this time. Or maybe it’s more like a plea. His sorrow is written all over his face. Anders is certain his own expression can’t be any different.

“Please, I…” He steps forward again and Karl’s arms envelope him. “Please, I want to help you. Let me help you.” Karl holds him tight. _At last_ , he thinks.

“It’s difficult for me,” Karl mumbles.

“I know. But I want to…”

“You want to help… I’m afraid that might be the problem.”

But Anders can’t hear that right now. He needs Karl. He can’t bear to have finally got him back only to lose him again. He pulls back just enough to look at him. “I want to feel close to you again.” He undoes the top buttons on his shirt, raises his head to bare his neck. “Please.” 

And the hunger with which Karl looks at him… he wants it too. If Anders focuses on that then he can almost drown out the disapproval coming from Justice. Karl reaches up to trace his fingers over Anders’ neck and Anders feels a shiver go through his entire body. It takes so little to make him react. 

“Please,” he whimpers again. He takes Karl’s hand and guides it down to the front of his trousers, the sudden semi-hardness there showing him how much he wants it, wants Karl’s touch, anything he has to give him. He peers up through half lidded eyes and sees Karl’s own gaze darken and intensify. He guides Anders back against the wall behind them, just beside the bedroom door. Anders pushes his hips against Karl’s hand, marvelling at how good it feels, how secure he feels like this, trapped between Karl and the wall. Perhaps he should be afraid, perhaps anyone else would be, but Anders isn’t. He just wants Karl back. Wants him back and never to go away again. 

A breath shudders out of him, sounding vaguely like another “ _please…”_

Karl takes Anders’ chin with his hand and tilts it down to capture his mouth with a kiss. Anders kisses back, as hungry in this moment as Karl has ever appeared to him. Anders rocks his hips again and Karl lets go. He raises his hands to cup the sides of Anders’ face and his breath is shaky as he pulls away. “Anders, I…” 

“I know what you want,” Anders tells him. “I’m trying to tell you I want it too.” He places his hand over Karl’s again but this time guides it only to his shirt collar, raising his chin as he does so that the tips of Karl’s fingers trace over the sensitive skin of his neck. Another shiver goes through him and Karl appears captivated. He leans in. Anders feels Karl’s breath, hot on his bared skin and can’t seem to help how he tries to press more and more of himself against him. His hands grab at the back of Karl’s neck, at his shirt. Down to his hips as he presses his own forward. 

“Yes,” says Anders, breathless. “This… I want this… please…” 

He feels Karl’s tongue first, tasting him, hot and wet on his skin. Then the sharp prick of his teeth as he bites. It hurts but it’s not a normal hurt. And it’s nothing like the ache of everything he’d worried he might be losing earlier. Karl draws the blood from Anders’ body, takes it into his own and Anders feels that connection. He doesn’t know how. But it’s rapturous. He feels it all blurring together; that delicious closeness and the desire that’s enough to make every inch of his skin burn with it. 

Somehow he wants more still, more of Karl’s touch. Fewer clothes in the way of it. But Karl is intent at his neck. One hand on Anders’ jaw, holding it in place. The other keeps the collar of his shirt out of the way. His body against Anders’, pressing him against the wall while Anders just clutches at him. He manages to part his legs and one of Karl’s slips between the gap, causing Anders to moan at the brief friction. But it’s not enough. 

When he tries to move against him, Karl reacts. Preceded by a low growl, his hands leave their positions at his jaw and neck to grab at his arms and slam him back against the wall. Anders gasps at the impact. A moment later, Karl is off him. Panting. Lips smeared with red. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. 

“Hey, it’s…” _Fine_ , Anders was going to say. But Karl doesn’t look fine. He looks horrified. 

“I lost control.” 

“It didn’t feel like that. At least not in a bad way.” Anders flashes a grin. “I was kind of enjoying it.” 

Karl just gives him an anguished look. Anders sees his gaze flick hungrily back to the wound at his neck, still bleeding, Anders can feel the wetness trickling down his skin. “It’s okay,” he says, more reassuringly this time, “we can carry on.” 

As Karl steps forward, his eyes focus on Anders’ neck. Anders can see how he wants more but when he reaches out a shaking hand towards the wound, there is a faint glow and then he feels the familiar tingle of Karl’s creation magic as he heals the wound. The residual sting in his neck is gone but it does nothing to ease the lingering ache of his arousal. 

“We have to stop doing this,” Karl tells him. “I can’t hurt you.” 

“That’s true. You _can’t_ hurt me.” 

“Do you think I’m happy, risking it?” 

Anders flinches. He opens his mouth but no words come. No. Karl rarely looks happy. Maybe for the first week or so but… not now. Not genuinely. 

“You were just talking earlier about what it was like when you came back after Justice took over… seeing the fear in your friend’s eyes…” 

“But I’m not afraid of you,” Anders insists but he already knows it’s pointless. 

He must look miserable because when Karl looks at him, he looks so _sorry_. “I don’t know what to do,” he says quietly. He turns and goes to sit over on the bed. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and then stares at the red smear left there. For a moment he just looks at it. Then he leans forward, clutching his head in his hands. 

Anders stares and thinks, _I don’t know either_. 

Then he goes to him. Kneels in front of him and leans his forehead to Karl’s. He gently takes Karl’s hands and replaces them with his own. Smoothing his thumbs over his cheek bones, threading his fingers up into his hair. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he says. 

Karl grips Anders’ wrists and pulls his hands away as he sits up. But he doesn’t let go, instead he lets his grip slip until he’s holding Anders’ hands in his own. He doesn’t say anything. He just looks down at their joined hands. 

Anders struggles to come up with anything to fill the awful silence. He wants to beg Karl not to leave him again. He doesn’t think he could take it. But he wants what’s best for Karl too. He wishes one of them could figure out what that might be. 

Anders can feel Justice, his need to help. When the answer comes to him he’s not sure whose thought it is. Both of them probably—that seems to be how it works a lot of the time. “Or... okay…” Anders says finally. His voice comes out strangely choked. Like he’s been crying but too wrapped up in his dilemma to think of it. “I’ll back off.” 

“Anders…” 

“Just don’t go. If I’m not the one who can support you then… okay. But maybe this place can be what you need. You can figure things out. And I’ll stay out of your way.” 

“That’s not what I want,” says Karl and his voice catches at the end. Anders doesn’t quite see his expression before Karl’s mouth is crushed against his. Desperate at first, then relenting. Anders tries to be true to his word and not pull him in for more. But he wants to, badly. 

“Karl,” he whispers against his lips, “please… Tell me what you want.” 

“I want you… I want you to stay. I want you to be safe. I want to be able to touch you… I want more than I can have.” 

Anders feels tears in his eyes. If he had to sum it all up he feels the same way. _I want more than I can have_ … Isn’t that just the story of his life? Of both their lives. Or any mage’s really. 

_You can change that_ , he thinks to himself. _But not like this. You have to fight._

But it’s never simple, being what he is. In one moment, Justice’s certainty is his own. In the next, he’s conflicted all over again. He doubts he’ll ever have the single-mindedness of a fade spirit. 

He can tell it’s the same for Karl, always finding himself juggling conflicting desires. 

Most of the time Anders feels more human than anything. Justice’s conviction isn’t always enough. 

“You’re a good man, Karl. You should have the things you want.” He frees one hand and uses it to cup the back of Karl’s head, drawing him back into the kiss. He slides his palm down, the other up to rest on Karl’s shoulders as he pulls himself up and pushes Karl back against the mattress. “Take what you want from me.” Anders whispers, climbing over him. “I’m not afraid of you.” 

The difference between them is, when Karl shudders and gives in, there’s no certainty that it’s the human side of him that wins.


	27. Since you last felt like you were home

Garrett is probably a little early arriving at The Hanged Man. It’s late afternoon and Isabela texted him half an hour ago to say that she was there. So now he’s there too. He doesn’t really have anything else to do and meeting Isabela is better than dealing with the nagging feeling he’s been carrying around with him for the past few days that he’s doing something wrong.

She’s sitting at the bar when he gets there and cheers at his arrival. Garrett grins at her enthusiasm. Where has Isabela been all week? She is definitely the exact person he needs to break him out of the funk he’s been in lately.

When he reaches the bar, Isabela has already ordered a drink for him, which Corff just finishes pouring. Garrett takes it and she says, “Should we toast to you being the only one of us with the sense to regularly get out of Kirkwall?”

Garrett laughs. “Might as well while it’s just the two of us. I don’t think anyone else is particularly happy about it.”

“Ignore them. You’re living your life instead of just hiding out in this miserable city like the rest of us. They shouldn’t blame you for that.”

Garrett smiles at her. “Glad I have you to reassure me.”

“Though, on second thought, maybe I should take that back. I mean, you can go anywhere and you choose Ferelden?”

He shrugs. “It’s nice to go home sometimes.”

Isabela gives him a measured look. “Hmm, I wouldn’t know about that.”

“Perhaps I’ll go to Rivain next time. You could come with me.”

She smirks at him. “You always say that.”

Garrett pouts. “And yet you never take me up on it.”

She doesn’t look too sympathetic about that. “Maybe one day,” she tells him before taking another swig of her drink.

Varric is the next to join them, coming out from the back room. They move to a table and Garrett tells him about his plans for Ferelden.

“I gotta tell you, Chuckles, it sounds terrible. Hiking in the Hinterlands? You couldn’t pay me to do it.”

“Oh, come on, surely it’s good for a writer to try new things every now and then.”

Varric remains unconvinced. “I have all the inspiration I need right here in Kirkwall.”

They get through a couple of drinks before it gets to the time they told everyone else to meet them. Marian arrives first but the others are all coming from work and take a while longer. 

“Who’s supposed to be coming again?” Garrett wonders. Isabela had taken charge when it came to inviting people so he doesn’t actually know.

“The usual group. Does Fenris count as usual?” Isabela looks thoughtful for a moment, then shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. He wouldn’t give a straight answer anyway. Nor would Anders.”

Marian makes a noise as if to say, ‘now you’ve done it’ but, to Garrett’s credit, he thinks he does a good job of disguising the jolt that goes through him at the mention of Anders’ name. “Oh?” he says, very casually.

Isabela narrows her eyes at him. “That’s not an issue is it?”

“No. I just assumed he still had a lot on his mind right now.”

Isabela raises an eyebrow but says nothing. Marian takes a large gulp of her beer.

“Why do I feel like I’m missing something?” asks Varric, looking between the three of them for an answer.

Garrett speaks up quickly before the others can. “Sorry, Varric, but there’s no story here.”

“What he means is you’d get too much enjoyment out of his misery,” says Marian.

Garrett stares into his ale, trying to divine within it whether or not he does want Anders to come. He’s missed his friend in the week or so since he saw him last and he doesn’t want to go without at least seeing how he is first. But he is perhaps a little bit worried about how seeing him might weaken his resolve to get out and move on the way he feels he should. 

Bethany and Merrill show up together a little while later. Garrett has to admit he’s been doing an awful lot of staring at the door, hoping to see a particular face. It must be obvious because when Bethany walks in he’s disappointed to see he’s not with them. She takes the seat beside him and after greeting everyone else, she leans in and says quietly, “He is coming. I had to talk him into it because he seemed to be under the impression that you wouldn’t want him here.”

Garrett’s eyes widen. “That’s not—”

“I know. I told him so. I do know you, Garrett, and I know you wouldn’t want to leave without saying goodbye to him.”

It’s true. And suddenly Garrett feels like an ass. He should have invited Anders himself instead of leaving it for someone else to do for him.

“He’s gone to see if Karl wants to join us,” says Bethany softly. “If that’s not okay…” 

“Of course it’s okay!” After everything they did to find him, Garrett wouldn’t dream of excluding Karl now. “Remember what I said about not being as sensitive as people think?”

“Hmm, I remember what you said after that too.”

“Psh. Shut up, you. I’ll be fine.”

Somehow, despite his frequent glances towards the door, Garrett misses the exact moment Anders walks in. He’s talking to Varric but is distracted when Isabela calls out, “You actually came! I’m impressed. I really thought you were determined to stay home and be miserable.”

Garrett looks up to see him approaching the table. It’s strange to see him outside the house without his coat. He used to wear that thing everywhere. Garrett isn’t surprised that it was unsalvageable though. He’s replaced it with a tatty but comfortable looking jumper that’s slightly big on his lanky frame. He really pulls it off though. Garrett wonders for a moment why Isabela thinks he would be miserable until he asks lightly, “Was I really that bad?” He doesn’t wait for a response before his eyes find Garrett’s.

Garrett sees right away that Bethany wasn’t exaggerating when she said that Anders was exhausted. He looks pale, with grayish shadows under his eyes but he smiles when he sees Garrett. “Hey, I heard you’re planning on leaving the country?”

“Yeah…” Garrett scratches his beard and he doesn’t quite mean to let out the awkward laugh that escapes him but somehow he can’t help it. “Sorry, I probably should have mentioned that in person.”

Anders gives a small shrug but for a moment Garrett can make out the uncertainty in his half smile. He remembers what Bethany said earlier about Anders not being sure if he’d be welcome tonight and he realises that there has been some kind of miscommunication between them this past week that he hasn’t been aware of. They need to talk. But with everyone here, there’s no chance of them doing it now.

Anders pulls up a chair and squeezes into the small space next to Merrill. Now that he’s here, Bethany comes up with the very sensible suggestion of ordering food. Given that he’s already had two pints and everyone else has only just arrived, Garrett agrees that that’s a very good idea.

Merrill’s the one who finally asks what Garrett had been too distracted to consider, “Did Karl not want to join us tonight?”

“Ah, no. He wasn’t up for it.” Anders looks for a moment as though he might say more but then just settles on giving Merrill a tight smile and remaining silent.

“I suppose it must be a lot for him to get used to. It took me an awfully long time to get used to Kirkwall when I first came here. I’d never seen so many humans before.”

Taking in the look on Anders’ face, Garrett just wants to ask if he’s okay. But with everyone there, it doesn’t seem right to do so. It bothers him though to remember how happy he’d looked the last time they saw each other. What can have changed in little under two weeks that he can barely hide his discomfort now? Garrett resolves that the first moment he can speak to Anders alone, he’ll ask him about it. And clear up whatever misunderstanding there has been to make Anders think Garrett wouldn’t want him around.

As the night goes on, Garrett’s thoughts drift away from Anders and he starts to feel a little more like himself than he has all week. Isabela says that she wants to dance and Merrill agrees enthusiastically. Garrett is all for it so they finish their drinks and go looking for where to go next. 

As they walk through Lowtown, Garrett happily allows himself to be dragged ahead by Merrill and Isabela, who are debating with Bethany which would be the best place to go. It’s only at that point he realises he didn’t hear Anders’ response to the proposition. He glances around and sees him hanging back with Marian and Varric, both of whom had been reluctant—as always—to leave The Hanged Man.

Anders looks okay, he thinks. He’s laughing at something Varric is saying anyway, so at the very least, that suggests he’s not having a terrible time. Garrett is distracted from wondering if he should pull Anders aside to talk now by Merrill asking his opinion on where they should go. They agree on a nearby club that’s known for having cheap drink deals. The music is cheesy but they can work with that. Once they’re in, though, it’s so noisy that Garrett doubts he’ll get his chance to talk to Anders in here. And by the time they’ve bought a round he’s distracted anyway. 

About an hour or so later, Garrett keeps meaning to go and get another drink but everytime a new song begins he keeps getting drawn back into dancing by the girls. The music is as cheesy as they’d expected which proves to be all part of the fun. Only Merrill, Isabela and Bethany have joined him on the dancefloor of the pokey little club and in Garrett’s opinion, the others are all missing out. Maybe they just need a bit more convincing. He looks up and scans the tables past the far side of the dancefloor and his eyes meet Anders’. Has he been watching him? It’s possible he should be embarrassed but Garrett’s a little too tipsy for that. As he catches Anders’ eye, he grins and doesn’t quite care if he looks like a fool, dancing badly to decades old pop music, because at least it’s making Anders smile.

Once the song finishes, he decides he really is going to take a breather this time. He sees that Fenris has finally joined the others and Marian and Varric are engaged in conversation with him. If he wants to talk to Anders, maybe now is the time to do it.

He goes over to the table and Anders grins up at him. “You look good up there.”

“Those weren’t even my best moves,” says Garrett, flashing him a smile.

Anders laughs. It’s good to hear that laugh again.

“You really don’t dance?” Garrett asks him.

“Not these days, it seems.”

“Oh come on, now you’re just making me feel like I’ve missed out.”

“Maybe you have.” He smirks.

“That’s just unfair. One dance?” 

Anders just smiles and shakes his head. “Not tonight. If you’re taking a break though, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Oh! Yeah. Me too, actually,” Garrett replies a little nervously. But then he smiles because at least they’re on the same page. If Anders wants to talk to him too, that’s great. Talking to Anders always makes him ridiculously happy. “It’s pretty hot in here—and loud. Do you want to step outside for a bit?”

“Uh, yes, alright,” Anders agrees and Garrett notices him grab his jumper before they head out.

The cool air is a relief when Garrett steps into it. They enter into a small but busy courtyard where they manage to find a stone bench in a reasonably quiet corner.

As Anders pulls his jumper over his head, some of his dark blonde hair falls free from his ponytail. It falls into his eyes, obscuring one of them until he reaches up and tucks it behind his ear.

“I’ve never seen you with your hair down,” Garrett tells him just as the thought pops into his head. 

“You’re not missing much,” Anders tells him with a grin. He takes a seat on the bench next to Garrett. 

Garrett is definitely not thinking about running his hands through Anders’ hair. Not at all. He feels his cheeks heat up despite the cold and wishes he’d kept his mouth shut. “What did you want to talk about?” he asks quickly.

“Ah…” Anders gives Garrett a sheepish look. “Don’t you want to go first?”

Garrett doesn’t really mind. “I mostly just wanted to know if you’re okay. You seemed sort of… troubled earlier.”

“Oh…” Anders doesn’t look like he knows what to say. Garrett wonders if perhaps he shouldn’t have asked. “Sorry, I…”

“You don’t have to apologise,” Garrett says quickly, too worried that he’s said the wrong thing to stop himself from interrupting. “If anything, I should. I really should have told you myself that I was leaving. I’m sorry about that. I just thought I was giving you space. I thought now that you have Karl, you wouldn’t want me bugging you all the time.”

Anders looks at him in genuine surprise. “What? You don’t bug me, Garrett. Why would you think that?”

Garrett can’t quite work out if the tone in Anders’ voice is one of hurt but he does realise that he’s said too much. He begins to think that it might have been an idea to have had this conversation sober. Now he knows why it had suddenly seemed so easy just before. He flounders, not sure how to respond.

“I thought…” Anders continues, “maybe you were avoiding me because you were upset about what happened the other week. I know I must have scared you. And I figured you’d gone home and realised you didn’t want to be around someone who could… who could do something like that.”

Garrett listens and starts to feel very out of his depth. This is what Anders has been thinking all this time? “Maker, I’m such an ass. Anders, no. That’s not what I was thinking. Not at all!”

“It would be understandable. It wouldn't make you an ass if you were frightened by that. You saw what I did. What I am.”

“I’ve seen what else you are too. That night—it wasn’t… you weren’t in control.”

“No, I wasn’t,” says Anders sadly. “But it was still me. It’s entirely reasonable to not want to put yourself at risk like that.”

“No,” says Garrett firmly, unthinkingly grabbing Anders’ hand as he continues, “it’s not fucking reasonable. You’re my friend. You protected me. _Justice_ protected me. You’ve given me enough reason by now to trust you.”

Anders stares at him like what Garrett’s told him is somehow shocking. Then he stares at Garrett’s hand gripping his, like he can’t believe that’s there either. Remembering suddenly about boundaries, Garrett lets go. “I was freaked out, yeah. It was a lot to take in. But I’m not suddenly going to hate you for it. Or forget everything else I know about you. Because there’s a lot of good there.” Anders still doesn’t speak so that gives Garrett the perfect opportunity to keep babbling like an idiot. “I shouldn’t have stayed away last week. I just thought that since you and Karl were getting back together… I don’t know. I didn’t want to be a third wheel. It sounds really selfish now, put in context.”

Which proves to be another thing he shouldn’t have said, if the increasingly miserable look on Anders’ face is anything to go by. “We... aren’t back together. Not really. I mean… maybe? It’s about as complicated as you’d expect given the situation.”

“Oh…” Well, that was news to Garrett. “But you… you’ve been staying there.”

“I’ve been back a few times… Just to sleep. But it felt like a lot of time to make up for. With Karl. I want to be there as much as I can. But I also felt uncertain if it was okay... I didn’t know if I should be going back to your place.”

Garrett frowns at that. “It’s not really mine though. You’ve lived there longer than I ever have.”

“It’s your family home. You should feel safe there.”

“Being around you doesn’t make me feel unsafe. The opposite would be more true.”

Anders looks like he doesn’t know what to say. He looks so tired too and Garrett knows it’s because he hasn’t been taking proper care of himself all week. “Don’t feel like you can’t go back there. Please. You’re the healer here. You know you have to sleep sometimes. Have a decent meal…”

Anders tries to smile but it’s really not that effective. “I sleep when I can.” It really doesn’t sound great. 

“Anders, are you okay? I tried to ask before but… everything I’ve heard…”

“I don’t know,” Anders murmurs. “It’s just been difficult. I can’t say it’s more than I expected because I know I ran into it too quickly to expect anything. It just feels like… He’s still him. But he’s also not.” Anders sighs. “And I know there’s no way you want to hear about this.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t willing to listen,” Garrett insists.

“There’s a difference between ‘willing’ and ‘wanting’, though.” 

Garrett shrugs and gives him a small smile. “Doesn’t matter.”

A tired and uncertain smile comes slowly to Anders’ lips and he shakes his head in mild disbelief. “How can you always be so nice?”

Garrett can’t help but grin back at him. “I could ask you the same.”

Anders laughs quietly, even more disbelieving now. “You’d be making a rather inaccurate assumption if you did.”

“Well then you have me fooled, if that’s the case,” says Garrett, not buying it for a second. 

“Andraste’s arse. You’re ridiculous,” he laughs again, still quietly but the sound makes Garrett smile wider.

“Come on, I’m not that bad. Anyway, I’m not always nice. You’ve heard me say some pretty awful things.”

“I think in those cases, what you say and what you mean are different things. What you do—also different.”

“Well, right back at you. Free clinic? Does that ring a bell?”

“I just do what I have to. What’s right. Doesn’t mean I’ve ever been nice about it.”

Garrett snorts and shakes his head. Anders watches him like he still can’t believe Garrett is serious. But his mood seems lighter now and Garrett can’t help but meet his gaze and smile back at him. They fall quiet for a moment. 

Anders is the first to break the silence by asking, “Are you cold? We could go back in if you wanted.”

He is a bit, now that Anders mentions it. He hadn’t noticed before. He feels as though he’s sobered up a little but the alcohol is still doing its bit towards fooling him he’s warm enough. “I don’t mind. Honestly, I’m just enjoying talking to you. I missed you this week.” And, apparently, he’s not sobered up as much as he thought. Because that was too much. That was definitely too much. He looks at Anders and takes in the slightly pained expression on his face like Garrett is just… too much. He laughs. “You can feel free to ignore that. I think I suddenly get what you were saying before; I really am ridiculous. Just stop me whenever, okay. Tell me to shut up or—”

Anders stops him. But not in the way he’d expected. He doesn’t tell him, or laugh in that exasperated sort of way that always means Garrett should probably stop talking. Instead, he leans in and kisses him.

Garrett is stunned. For an instant, he simply isn’t able to process what’s happening. But then he feels Anders’ lips move against his and Garrett doesn’t think, he kisses back. He does what he’s wanted to do for so long and reaches up, tangling his hand in Anders’ hair, drags his thumb over the stubble along his jaw, feels Anders’ lips, soft and a little dry but real against his. He revels in the feeling of having wanted for so long and finally being able to have.

Anders’ lips, his hands are all as insistent as Garrett’s own. One cups his neck while the other falls to his leg and grips him firmly. In that moment, he could swear he never heard a more beautiful sound than the low whine Anders lets out when Garrett takes his lower lip between his own and softly sucks on it. 

But it’s over too quickly. Garrett couldn’t say how long it lasted because he lost all sense of time during that kiss. One moment every one of his senses is being taken over by Anders’ proximity and the next, Anders is pulling away, breathing hard, his face already contorting with regret. His mouth falls open like he’s trying to speak but can’t make the words come out. Garrett is left dazed, missing the warmth where Anders had been just a moment ago. 

“I’m sorry,” Anders finally manages to say. “Shit… I really shouldn’t have done that.”

Garrett doesn’t answer. It sinks in far too quickly that that wasn’t some astoundingly vivid fantasy that he’s allowed to play out too far in his mind. That was real. He can still feel the tingling pressure on his lips where Anders’ had been just a moment ago. It was real, and the reality of the situation is that Anders isn’t his. Not to kiss, or touch, or indulge in in the way he’s been so foolishly dreaming of since they met. Reality is crushing and Anders looks at him like he knows this. And he’s more sorry than he can say.

Garrett simply can’t bring himself to reply. His instinct is always to brush things off. Insist it’s all fine. But being given what he’s wanted for so long and then having it snatched away doesn’t feel fine. He’s not sure if he can pretend it does.

“I should… probably go…” Anders sighs.

Garrett doesn’t want him to go. He wants Anders to stay, to kiss him again and not to stop this time. Not to apologise but to show him he hasn’t just been imagining this thing between them. He wants Anders to admit it’s real; that they could be something.

But Garrett only has to look at his face to know he won’t do that.

Anders gets to his feet but he doesn’t go right away. He says, “Maybe it won’t help but… that… it wasn’t…” he breaks off and sighs. “I did it because I wanted to. But I still shouldn’t have. Not while I’m uncertain of where Karl and I stand.”

Garrett hasn’t allowed himself to ask this before because it always felt out of bounds. He doesn’t want to be someone who could come between two people who love each other. But that kiss… He can’t just pretend that didn’t happen. Not when Anders himself initiated it. Not when he claims to have wanted it. “And what if… what if you weren’t with Karl? What if you hadn’t found him?” Garrett forces himself to look up, to look Anders in the eye. “How would you have felt then?”

“I don’t know…” Anders whispers. “I’m still… I’m not someone you should want to be with.”

Garrett sighs. “I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway, does it?”

“I really am sorry.”

But Garrett doesn’t want to hear that. “It’s fine,” he says and the words sound as empty as they feel. “It was a mistake. I get it. I’m probably just going to need a moment, that’s all.”

“I think I’m going to go home,” Anders tells him.

There’s no point in trying to stop him. What good will it do either of them? “Okay… then I’ll see you before I leave.”

“Yeah…” 

“Alright… Good night, Anders.”

Anders looks at him sadly. “Good night, Garrett.” 

He walks away.

Garrett leans back against the wall behind him and tries not to think.

When Varric arrives several minutes later, he’s surrounded by several young women who claim to have seen the whole thing and have since become very invested in convincing Garrett that Anders is not worth it.

“Look at you, you’re gorgeous. You could do so much better,” says a short pretty woman, who has taken up the spot where Anders was sitting earlier.

“You’re way out of his league,” agrees her friend. 

“Yeah, I know he’s got kind of a scruffy hipster thing going on but to be honest he just sort of looks like he needs a bath.”

“Or a hairbrush.”

“Yeah, yeah. Seriously, fuck him.”

“That’s sort of what I was trying to do,” says Garrett half-heartedly. Then he sighs when they look at him with expressions ranging from blank to appalled. Anders always laughs at his jokes. Even the bad ones. Well, perhaps not the really bad ones.

He knows that these women mean well but they’re missing the point. Personally, he always enjoyed Anders’ slightly odd sense of style. The eclectic mix of worn second hand clothes suits him. He likes his messy hair, the perpetual scruff that lines his jaw and the tired golden eyes. Truly, Garrett can’t fault any of it. He thinks Anders is beautiful. But it’s his heart that Garrett loves.

He breaks off the thought in alarm. No. No, he doesn’t—does he?

“Shit,” Garrett mutters, dropping his head into his hands.

That’s how Varric finds him, with the woman perched on the bench beside him patting his back. They’re all cooing at him in a way that they seem to think is soothing but their words are all to the effect of, “you’re better off without him!” But Garrett’s never had Anders and he doesn’t feel better off.

“Making friends there, Chuckles?” Varric asks.

Garrett manages a small laugh and offers the girls a weak smile. “Seems that way.”

“Are you his friend? His boyfriend’s a dick just so you know.”

“Boyfriend? I didn't know you were seeing anyone. They can’t mean Blondie, can they?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Garrett sighs.

“That’s the spirit,” says one of the women.

“Ladies, I think I can take it from here,” says Varric and after casting one or two final aspersions on Anders’ character, they go.

“You alright, Garrett?”

Garrett makes a non-committal sound.

“Want to tell me why those girls thought you and Blondie were involved? Besides the longing looks and various other dead giveaways.”

Garrett mumbles, “Because they saw us kiss.”

“Ah. That’ll do it. And the reason they were so mad about it?”

“Because immediately afterwards he started apologising and ran away.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“I think I love him,” says Garrett. Because he’s been saying things he shouldn’t all night. Why stop now?

A glance at Varric shows his surprise at the admission. “That… doesn’t sound great. Given the circumstances.”

“Nope.”

“Want another drink?”

Garrett sighs. “Sure. Why not?” He gets to his feet, then after a moment, looks down at Varric. “Don’t tell the others.”

“You’re asking _me_ that?”

“I just don’t want them blaming Anders. It was clearly just a momentary lapse in judgement. It could have happened to anyone.”

Varric watches him for a long moment, considering this. Then he says, “You know, Chuckles, while I don’t really think going after the possessed mage is the most sensible thing you could do, you say you love the guy and he clearly feels something for you too. Maybe it’s about time you tried fighting for what you want.”

He considers it. And as he does, it’s difficult not to remember the feel of Anders’ lips moving desperately against his, or of his hands sliding up over his arms, in his hair, pulling him closer as if he just couldn’t get enough. Maybe Varric has a point. But Garrett isn’t sure if he can pursue it. Not when Anders has told him no at every turn. He sighs again and all he says is, “Maybe.”

“Well, think about it,” says Varric. “In the meantime, the next round is on me.”

* * *

Anders doesn’t think about where he’s going when he leaves the club. He just walks. It’s maybe ten minutes before he stops to consider where he should go. Karl isn’t expecting him back tonight which is probably for the best since Anders doesn’t think he could face him now anyway. He won’t go back to the Hawke estate either. He knows the likelihood of running into Garrett is slim when he’ll be up for work early tomorrow but it just doesn’t feel right. 

He can’t get the look on Garrett’s face after the kiss out of his head. Anders has fucked up a lot of times in his life--this really isn’t the worst but, right now, it feels high up on the list.

He decides to go to the clinic. It’s the only option available to him really. He spends the whole walk to Darktown beating himself up. He has the feeling even Justice is angry with him. Justice has only the most basic understanding of how mortal relationships work and even he knows that leading Garrett on like that was unacceptable. 

“You could have stopped me,” he mutters, closing the door to the clinic behind him. But then it wasn’t like he’d planned to kiss Garrett. It had been completely impulsive. Garrett somehow has the power to make him question everything. His kindness comes so naturally to him. His support is everything Anders wants.

Besides, now he has to wonder what the probability is that Justice is so fed up with playing witness to Anders’ disastrous love life that he’s just stopped paying attention.

Perhaps Justice has the right idea. He should just focus on his work instead of getting caught up between Karl and whatever his feelings are for Garrett—because he definitely feels something for Garrett. Something more than a harmless crush. There’s no point in denying that now. Garrett’s support and his kindness have been endless. And even when Anders thought it had finally reached its limits, Garrett had still just been thinking about Anders’ needs all along. 

Anders doesn’t think he deserves it. In fact, he has proved by his actions tonight that he doesn’t. It had been so selfish giving in to that whim. Just taking because he knew he could without stopping to think of what it might mean to Garrett.

And what about Karl? They’d come to no definitive conclusion last night over where they stood. When Anders had gone to him earlier to ask if he wanted to come with him to meet the others, he’d been distant. Anders had wondered if that meant he regretted last night, when he’d foolishly thought they might be making some small measure of progress. It doesn’t make it right. Even if they aren’t together, it still feels like he’s gone behind Karl’s back.

But now he thinks of Karl and the distance he keeps putting between them, even as he claims to want him still, and Anders thinks to himself that he’s only making things more difficult for Karl anyway. Staying away might be best. At least until Karl feels more sure of himself.

Anders doesn’t sleep that night. He lets Justice carry him through until morning. As much as Justice dislikes Anders’ decision to avoid their problems rather than deal with them head-on, he does feel there are more pressing matters. He has felt that way for some time. If Garrett needs time, Anders reminds him, and Karl needs space, then there is little point in dwelling on those mistakes for now. Especially when there are other things he can do right. Besides, it seems entirely possible that right now Anders needs both of those things too.

* * *

Garrett has been giving a lot of thought to Varric’s words last night. Well, mostly he’s been nursing a hangover after all the drinks Varric had bought him in an effort to cheer him up. But once he is actually able to think without it hurting too badly, his thoughts turn to how Varric has a point. 

Garrett is leaving for Ferelden in two days. He hasn’t decided if he’ll come back or if he’ll go on to somewhere else when he’s had his fill of the Hinterlands. He’s been thinking about his conversation with Bethany all those weeks ago and how she’d advised him not to pursue Anders’ because she’d been so sure it would end in Garrett leaving Anders behind. 

He remembers his response:  _ “How do you know I’m going to leave?”  _ It had shocked both of them. Could it really have begun that early? Because one thing Garrett’s been considering is that if Anders asked him to stay, he just might do it. Or, he’d at least use the tickets he’s already bought to visit his friend in Ferelden. Then he’d come back to Anders. If Anders wanted him.

Garrett can’t help but think Anders might actually want him.

Their kiss last night had been intense, passionate, everything Garrett had been dreaming of. It had been enough to make him consider the possibility that this feeling he has could be love. So isn’t that something Garrett should fight for? Just as Varric had suggested.

At the very least they should talk about it. They never have before. The subject was always hinted at—danced around. Garrett assumed Anders wasn’t interested so he hadn’t pressed it. But Anders has never outright said no to him. Even last night when Garrett questioned him, his answer had been vague. 

When, by evening, Garrett’s hangover has faded to little more than an unpleasant lethargy, he resolves to go and find out once and for all where he stands with Anders. It’s late enough that he should have finished work in the clinic, which means he’s likely at Fenris’ house. 

He forces himself not to think about it too much. He’ll just go over there and ask if they can talk. He’ll be honest about his feelings and… Anders can take it or leave it. If he doesn’t feel the same—or if he does and he’s choosing Karl anyway… then, okay. He’ll just go back to the original plan. Ferelden. And then wherever he feels like going after that.

But if there’s a possibility that he can come back from Ferelden and Anders will be waiting for him… He has to know.

When he gets to Fenris’ house, he knocks fast, figuring the longer he hesitates, the longer he has to back out. There’s no answer. Part of him is relieved because honestly, this scares him. He knocks again anyway because then at least he can say he’s tried.

For a long time, there’s still no answer and Garrett starts to think of what he should do now—give up, or head to Darktown and try the clinic—but then he hears footsteps. The door opens slowly. Garrett couldn’t say why, but for some reason he wasn’t expecting it to be Karl. Perhaps because last time it had been Fenris who answered. He’d thought perhaps it would be Fenris again. But why wouldn’t it be Karl? It’s late enough that Fenris is probably out with Marian. And now Garrett feels foolish for not thinking of that. 

He hasn’t seen Karl since the night they rescued him but Karl has no trouble remembering him. “Garrett,” he says. “Are you looking for Anders?”

“Hi!” Garrett’s not sure if his attempt not to sound as alarmed as he feels is working but he keeps trying all the same. “Uh, yeah, that’s right. Is he here?”

He knew Karl would likely be here. He knew it but for some reason he hadn’t stopped to consider just how guilty he would feel standing face to face with the man, knowing what he’d come here for. What was he thinking?

“No. I haven’t seen him since last night. Before he went out to meet you.”

“Oh…” What does that mean? 

That Anders hasn’t told Karl about the kiss, clearly. Is he avoiding Karl? Because of what they did?

“I assume he’s running late at the clinic,” says Karl. Garrett struggles not to be swallowed up whole by his guilt. “Are you alright?”

“Me? Yeah, yeah… I should probably be asking you that. I mean, how have you been since… you know?”

The smile Karl gives him is weak. “I can’t quite say it’s been easy. But I’m getting by, I suppose.”

Garrett doesn’t know what to say to that. He wants to ask what he means by it but isn’t sure he should. It’s none of his business. 

And clearly Anders made a mistake last night. This is exactly what Garrett hadn’t wanted to do. He looks into Karl’s face now and can’t believe he thought he could come here and ask Anders to leave him and pick Garrett instead. Of all the selfish things he could have considered… This isn’t him. This isn’t who Garrett wants to be. Now that he’s thought it through he knows there’s no way he can go through with his plan.

He looks at Karl, peering back at him in mild puzzlement, and still doesn’t know what to say. In normal circumstances he’d talk to Karl, try to be a friend to him. But how can he do that after last night? 

“I have to go,” Garrett says. “Sorry. I just—I’ll probably see you around.” Then he barely waits for Karl’s response. He walks away.

He doesn’t go to Darktown to look for Anders.

He doesn’t see Anders at all. 

Two days later, Garrett says his goodbyes to his sisters and Merrill and Isabela. And then he gets on a plane and leaves for Ferelden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now listen to [Nothing Has To Be True](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xp97VectoaQ&ab_channel=FirstAidKit-Topic) by First Aid Kit (yes, again) if you wanna feel sad. Or more sad. I'm really not a nice author, am I? Thanks for reading, anyway 😅


	28. Hold on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who didn't see the notice on my tumblr: the previous chapter has been edited to include an extra couple of scenes. If you scroll down to the first page break and read from there then you'll be all caught up. 
> 
> I'm sorry for the sudden disappearance after the last chapter. For a couple of weeks I had the excuse that I was working on another fic (a Kanders fic about how they might have met in the Circle - it's complete if anyone wants to give it a read) but then once that was done I had to admit I just really didn't know what to write for an additional scene I had planned for this chapter. In the end I decided to skip over it and tag the end of that chapter onto the last one and just continue with the story. 
> 
> I'm sorry for taking over a month to update then not writing the Fenhawke scene I meant to write and giving you this miserable chapter instead. One thing I do have to offer is I made a painting of Hawke and Fenris that sort of goes with chapter 24. I posted it [here on my tumblr](https://pinkfadespirit.tumblr.com/post/636864570369179648/vampire-fenris-and-vampire-hunter-hawke-from-my) (heads up for nudity because I hate drawing clothes).
> 
> Thank you all for reading!

Anders barely notices as he slips back into old habits. He’s been running on auto-pilot—or perhaps it’s more that Justice has taken over. It’s not like when he loses control completely, he’s not all glowing eyes and the fade threatening to burst through from inside him. It’s just that Anders doesn’t want to deal with Anders’ problems right now. And that’s fine because there’s this whole other part of him that’s also Justice and the problems Justice is concerned about are a lot bigger and far more important than what Anders has been distracting himself with lately. 

So he still looks like Anders, still sounds like Anders, but it’s Justice’s focus and determination that’s driving him now. 

He loses track of the days as time passes in a blur of healing patients, meeting with the Underground and working on his manifesto until one day Bethany asks him how Karl is doing and Anders realises he doesn’t know. The surge of guilt that hits him with that thought is the most like Anders he’s felt in… well. He’s not sure how long.

Bethany narrows her eyes at him. “It’s not a trick question, you know.”

“I don’t know,” Anders admits. “I haven’t seen him.”

That surprises her. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. I just… I’ve been focusing on work and… I suppose I got distracted.”

Bethany is properly frowning now. “Do I even want to know when the last time you left the clinic was?”

“Probably not.”

Bethany sighs. “Okay. You’re coming home with me tonight.”

Anders feels a surge of reluctance that he’s not sure has as much to do with Justice as it usually would. He remembers his reason for not going back earlier and asks, “Uh… Is Garrett…?”

“Garrett left the day before yesterday.” She says it like it’s something he should already know. And it’s true. He _should_ already know it. 

Reluctance turns inexplicably to regret. But then, perhaps it’s no surprise he can’t get his feelings straight. It’s not as though he’s ever been good at doing so.

“I was supposed to talk to him before he left.”

Bethany doesn’t seem to know what to make of him. Hesitantly, she suggests, “You still can if you need to. Do you want to borrow my phone?”

“No... That’s alright. Perhaps it’s for the best…”

For a long moment she just keeps frowning at him. “You’re worrying me a little, you know?”

At last, Anders looks at her properly, taking in the real concern in the way she peers back at him. He tries to smile. “There’s no need for that. I’m fine, really. I’ve just been preoccupied. But I’ll take a break. I need to go and see Karl anyway.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Bethany seems to accept this but it doesn’t quite erase the worry from her eyes. “Okay… but come back for dinner first. I don’t want to think about what you’ve been living off all this week. I just assumed you were going back to Fenris’ when you were done here.”

There’s no point in arguing with her. It’s definitely about time he had a decent meal. And probably a shower.

When he and Bethany arrive back at the Hawke estate that night, it doesn’t look any different than usual. And, really, it shouldn’t _feel_ any different either. But walking in and knowing Garrett isn’t there, that he won’t be coming back for some indefinite amount of time, it feels wrong. It shouldn’t do. Anders lived here long before he even met Garrett. If anything, this should feel like going back to normal. It doesn’t though.

Anders has never quite wanted to admit to himself how much he looked forward to seeing Garrett on the evenings he came back here after work. He knows he has a habit of pushing himself further than is probably healthy—a side effect of living with Justice—but every time he came back here, overworked and exhausted, Garrett had a way of making him forget all that. With his easy laugh and the warm brown eyes that always seem to brighten when they settle on Anders, even though Anders has done nothing to deserve it. It’s stupid how he finds himself dwelling on that now. He’ll miss Garrett now he’s gone. But it’s better this way.

Hawke is still there, of course, and it’s strange how his feelings towards her have settled in the past month or so. It used to be that there was an ever present ache and every time he looked at her it grew harder to ignore. It doesn’t hurt to be around her anymore. He’d thought that was because of Karl but now he’s not so sure. Not because he doesn’t love Karl. He does. But try as he might, he can’t pretend Karl is the only one he feels for.

He puts off going to Fenris’ house and the less he tries to think about it, the more he can’t help but understand he’s doing it on purpose, wanting to avoid actually dealing with the situation. And when he finally admits that, he has to admit that it’s wrong. So he pulls himself together—or, at least, he attempts to—and he goes out to find Karl.

After the first few nights staying in Fenris’ house, Fenris had clearly become tired of being the one to let Anders in every night so he’d received a key of his own. He lets himself into a house that is quiet and cold. It’s strange how a place inhabited by vampires can manage to look barely inhabited at all. Anders makes his way up to the room where he and Karl at the beginning had stayed nearly every night together since they’d found each other again. Until Anders had to run away from their problems instead of actually trying to fix them. He’s more than thirty and behaving like he did when he was a teenager. Karl had been the one to break him out of that habit. For a while, anyway. Maybe he’d just distracted him from it. After all, once the templars had carted Karl off to Kirkwall, he’d gone right back to it; running from the Circle, then the Wardens. He’d only stuck around in Kirkwall after losing Karl for the second time because of Justice. 

He never thought he’d find himself running from Karl.

He can’t keep doing it. He has to figure out a way to make this work for all of them, Justice included.

Anders reaches the door to their shared room but he’s not sure he should count it as theirs anymore. So he knocks, even knowing Karl must have heard him coming. There’s no answer but rather than knocking a second time, he pushes the door open.

Karl is there. He’s sat on the floor, at the foot of the bed. When Anders enters, he doesn’t move, only tenses, remaining slumped over with his head between his knees like he’s sick or in pain. In his alarm, Anders finally forgets his nerves.

“Karl?” He practically runs to Karl’s side. 

At the sound of his name, Karl looks up. And he looks at Anders like he doesn’t even know him.

“A-are you hurt?” Anders tries asking. He’s quite sure vampires don’t get sick.

Karl stares at him for a few seconds longer before replying, “Anders?”

“That’s me. Didn’t think I’d been gone so long you’d forget who I was,” Anders jokes, even while his heart is most definitely not in it. Karl is still looking at him with only the barest hint of recognition, his pupils dilating in a way that makes Justice buzz uncomfortably beneath his skin. Anders tries to force the feeling back. He’s more concerned about Karl now than about himself. Karl is… not okay.

Anders crouches beside him and Karl uncurls slowly and shifts closer. He reaches for Anders’ shoulders and pushes, not roughly but enough so that Anders falls back. For a moment, the world flashes blue but Anders fights it off. He fights harder than he’s ever had to before to keep control of his body and allow Karl to crawl over him. It’s probably his fault anyway. He’s been gone for too long and maybe he was wrong and Karl really did need him. 

Karl lowers himself over Anders, hands going to his collar, which he tugs hard enough to tear free the top button. He listens as it drops to the wooden floor. Then lips descend upon Anders’ neck, a hot swipe of tongue as the only warning before sharp fangs sink into his neck.

Anders tries to stay relaxed but it hurts this time, more than it ever has before. Like there’s something missing. Some part of Karl is absent tonight but Anders tries to hold on all the same. Karl needs this, he tells himself, tells Justice. But Justice wins out in the end.

There’s another flash of blue and the word “ _Enough!_ ” is ripped from his throat without his permission. 

And Karl is off him.

There’s a rush of magic through his body as Justice pulls from the fade to heal the wound on Anders’ neck. 

“This is _not_ what we agreed to!” Justice fumes. 

“Anders?” says Karl again. He’s more himself this time. Anders pushes back against Justice’s control and Justice begrudgingly relents.

“Karl, I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

Karl is slumped back against the foot of the bed. His eyes focus a little more. 

“You shouldn’t have come.”

“That’s a fine hello,” says Anders but it doesn’t sound right. His voice cracks somewhere in the middle.

“I mean it.” Karl sounds desperate.

“You didn’t tell me not to. I didn’t even mean to stay away as long as I did. If I’d come back sooner…”

Karl shakes his head. “It wouldn’t have mattered.”

“Why? Karl, how long is it since you last fed?”

Karl doesn’t answer until Anders prompts him again, saying his name, quietly, apprehensively. “A night? Or a couple maybe… I’m not sure.”

“Why wouldn’t you have fed last night? Why not tonight?”

“I…” Karl breaks off before he’s even begun his answer. He shakes his head and looks at him imploringly.

“You’ve been doing what Fenris does, right? Picking off slavers?”

“I… I don’t remember.”

Anders feels a rush of anger that seems to come from nowhere until he realises it’s from Justice. Anders bites it back. He’s not angry with Karl. Karl doesn’t deserve any of this. 

“It’s alright…”

“How is it _alright?_ I’m just... trying to stay in control but… I can’t. And you—” Karl breaks off his sentence, looking at him in horror “—are you okay? I just...”

“I’m fine,” Anders assures him. “I told you, Justice wouldn’t let you hurt me.”

“It worries me that _you_ would.” Karl manages somehow to sound even more tired than he did before.

“It was necessary.”

Karl shakes his head. “It’s not. You should…”

“Don’t tell me to give up.”

“We keep having this conversation.” Karl sighs. “Round in circles… I’m just so tired.”

It scares Anders, hearing that. Karl doesn’t sound like himself anymore. 

He tries moving closer.

“Don’t. Please… just stay back.”

Anders stops. He can’t think of a thing to say. He slumps, letting his head fall into his hands as he fails yet again to fix this problem.

“I thought you had already,” says Karl, quietly. “Given up, that is.”

The assumption stings but it’s no less than Anders deserves. “How could I do that? When after eight years, I’ve finally found you again…” Anders looks up, meeting Karl’s eyes. “No. I never would.”

“Then.. where have you been?” He doesn’t look upset; his weary expression barely even changes.

“At the clinic. I’ve… what can I say? I’ve been a coward, letting Justice get things done so I don’t have to think. I suppose I convinced myself that I was giving you some much needed space.”

Karl considers his words. He rubs his brow then tips his head back against the bed, looking up at the ceiling as he quietly speaks, “I thought perhaps being around you was making things harder. But now I wonder if it was you holding me together all along.”

Anders’ response is immediate, “If you need me, I’ll stay.”

“So I can keep using you as a food source any time I feel like it? Is that what you want? It’s not what _he_ wants. Justice. You know he’s not going to let me keep it up.”

He’s right. Justice isn’t going to stand for this much longer. Anders can feel it but he doesn’t know what to do. How can he choose between them?

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Anders sighs. 

“I’m not sure I know either.”

They lapse into silence. Anders wishes he could be holding Karl. This distance between them hurts too much. Karl is right there and Anders can’t do anything to make the ache less. It’s not the first time it occurs to him why he’d kissed Garrett the other night. Garrett was so open with his emotions and so impossibly kind that Anders didn’t know how to take it. He’d been so firm before in his belief that it would be wrong to encourage his advances. But in his recent loneliness, Anders couldn’t help himself anymore. When Garrett was offering him everything he wanted, it would have taken a stronger man to resist. Now Anders is left with nothing but guilt and shame at not being that stronger man.

He startles when Karl speaks again because it’s almost like he’s been reading his mind. “Did Garrett find you?”

“What?”

“The other night. He came by looking for you.”

Anders tries to keep his expression from giving away every one of his guilty thoughts but he’s not sure he manages it. “Which night?”

“It was the night after you went out. I take it he’s not as upset with you as you thought. Did you manage to talk things over?”

“Um… kind of…” Anders struggles to look Karl in the eye.

“Anders?”

“I kissed him,” he admits quietly.

Silence. Anders forces himself to look up but he can’t quite figure out the look on Karl’s face. There’s sadness there, of that he’s certain. “I’m sorry. I just… I couldn’t…” He swallows his excuses. Even inside his head they aren’t good enough. “I’m sorry, Karl.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Karl says finally.

Anders isn’t sure if that hurts more than if he’d been furious. “You don’t have to be so understanding. I know things between us aren’t what they used to be but that doesn’t make what I did okay.”

“I do understand though.” Karl speaks softly and there’s still pain in his eyes even as he offers his forgiveness. Anders can’t stand the sight of it. “He’s better for you than I am.”

“You don’t even know him.”

“Anyone else would be.”

“Karl stop. I don’t want anyone else!”

Karl offers a small, ironic smile to Anders’ outcry. “That’s not true, though, is it?”

“Shut up…” Anders finds himself crawling towards Karl. The distance is too much to stand. “Nothing has changed about the way I feel about you. I didn’t kiss him because I don’t want you. It was because… because I just needed someone. It was wrong. It wasn’t fair to either of you.”

“Do you love him?”

“I love _you_.”

“That doesn’t quite answer my question.”

“I love you,” Anders insists. He dips his head and the top of it knocks against Karl’s chest as he mutters, “I don’t know what I feel for him but doesn’t matter. He’s gone now. Fenris seems to think I’ve driven him away. Maybe he’s right.”

Karl doesn’t reply. Anders wonders if he’s disappointed. The thought is a bitter one. “Is it really so bad that you feel as though you have to foist me off on someone else?”

“Anders, that’s not what I’m doing.”

“That’s what it’s starting to feel like.”

Since moving closer to him, Karl hasn’t touched him besides allowing Anders to lean his head against his chest. But now he puts his arms tentatively around him. “That’s not it. I just want you to be happy.”

Anders can’t think of a response to that. He wants to say that he would be happy if they’d only try harder to make this work. But he has no way of knowing if that’s true. He would be happier if Karl was happy. But he doesn’t know how to make that happen.

He raises his head to look at Karl. He looks solemn and uncomfortable. Anders raises fingers to brush lightly against his face. Then he can’t help but lean in to brush his lips against Karl’s. Anders feels fingers dig into his back through his jumper as Karl tenses.

He whispers, “Anders, I need you to leave.”

Anders feels Justice respond to the warning. He wants to argue but he wonders if there’s any point. If Karl were to lose control and bite him, Justice would only take him over. He senses that would not end well if it happened a second time in one night.

Anders pulls back and Karl’s hands drop to his side. “Alright. I’ll go,” he relents. “I’m going to ask Fenris to check on you later, though. I’m… I’m worried.”

“I suppose if it has to be someone it should be safer if it’s him.”

Anders doesn’t know what to say. He wants to encourage Karl to go out and hunt but the thought worries him after hearing how little Karl can remember of his last attempt. He needs to talk to Fenris. Maybe he can help. The thought feels like a desperate one but if at the moment that’s all he has then he has to take it. 

* * *

Of all the things Fenris had expected from tonight, being confronted midway through his patrol with Hawke by a half angry, half hysterical mage was not one of them. 

“Have you seen him?” demands Anders, after appearing practically from nowhere. Hawke had received a call from Bethany asking where they were only half an hour ago. Neither one of them had expected her to show up so soon after with Anders in tow. No sooner had the car pulled up on the kirb beside them, than Anders was out of the passenger seat and marching towards them, Bethany following quickly after him. Her concern for Anders is a palpable thing but not something Fenris is given any time to analyse. 

Fenris can only assume Anders’ question refers to the other mage. The one who, despite all of Fenris’ better judgement, he has found himself residing with. “Have you seen him at all these past few days?”

Fenris does not like Anders’ tone. The accusatory bite to his words sets him on edge, causing his fingers to clench and release at his sides. He doesn’t answer immediately. He takes in the wide, panicked look on the mage’s face and tries not to instinctively look away. “Should I have?”

“Yes!” cries Anders. “You were supposed to… you were supposed to be helping!”

“Is that not what I am doing?” Fenris snaps. “I gave him a place to stay didn’t I? Did you expect me to wait on him too?”

The very idea infuriates him, though Fenris does his best not to let it show quite how much.

“Anders,” says Hawke evenly despite the frown she has fixed upon her friend. “How about instead of throwing accusations around, you explain the problem?”

“He’s—” Anders begins then stops, looking lost. Looking almost frightened. Fenris can see him struggle to get out the words. “Karl is in trouble. And I don’t— I don’t know how to help him. I don’t know what I can do.”

Fenris isn’t pleased to hear it. But he isn’t surprised either. “Then perhaps it is time to give up. There may be nothing that can be done for him.”

Anders turns those wide, frightened eyes back on him. “That’s not— _You were supposed to be helping him!_ ”

“As I recall, I promised you nothing on at least two occasions.”

“Then what… No. I won’t accept it. You’re saying I should just let him go.”

“If he becomes a danger to you then you may have little choice,” says Hawke.

Anders looks at her as though she’s struck him. Bethany, too, looks at her sister in alarm.

“What are you saying?” Anders asks and his words have finally lost their bite, his anger swallowed up entirely by fear.

“Nothing,” Hawke sighs. “Perhaps we should go and talk about this somewhere else. Fenris, would you be willing to at least speak to Karl? Assess the situation?”

Fenris can see no reason not to accept Hawke’s rather reasonable request. As little as he wants to do anything for any mage who would speak to him as Anders has done, that is hardly Karl’s fault. Karl, in the brief time Fenris has known him, has done little to offend. Fenris inclines his head.

“Thank you,” breathes Anders, as though Fenris were doing this for him. “Try to get him to hunt. He needs blood but I can’t give it to him. Justice won’t let me.”

It seems the mage’s demon has more sense than he does, Fenris thinks and it’s only the look of distress on Anders’ face that keeps him from saying it aloud.

“I will do what I can,” says Fenris.

They go their separate ways and Fenris calls on one of the few contacts he has in the city to arrange a meeting. An hour later, he heads back to the Hightown mansion to see for himself if anything can be done to help Karl.

He knocks on the door to Karl’s room and hears a sigh, followed by a muffled, “Come in.”

As Fenris opens the door and steps inside, Karl is straightening up from where he has been slumped with his head in his hands at the foot of the bed. Fenris walks over to where he sits and offers him the plastic carrier bag he brought back from his meeting. “Perhaps this will help.”

Karl looks at him questioningly before taking the bag and peering inside. His eyes widen hungrily, his pupils dilating at the mere sight of the bag’s contents. It shows how desperate Karl must be. Bagged blood is nowhere near as appetising as fresh. And yet, Karl wastes no time taking one of the bags and tearing it open with his teeth. Fenris looks away as he feeds. Karl might be too desperate to care but Fenris would want privacy if it were him.

The scent of blood has filled the room but it barely appeals to Fenris. Even the slaver he’d hunted while waiting for his contact was more enticing than what he’s given Karl. And the slavers have always disgusted him. Even more so since his night with Hawke.

Fenris scowls, not wanting to think about that. He turns back to see Karl finished with his meal.

“Where did you get that?” Karl asks him. “Anders said he couldn’t bring me any more donated blood.”

“It is not from Anders. I have another source.” At the eager look on Karl’s face, Fenris clarifies, “One who claims to be in popular demand. What I have brought you will have to last until they can acquire more. I cannot say how long that will take.”

The hopeful look slips from Karl’s face. “I understand. Thank you.”

Fenris nods. He hesitates over his next words but it is important he ask, “Tell me, are you in control of your thirst? Should I be worried as Anders is?” Fenris doubts he has the capacity to be as worried as Anders is, not over Karl, but that seems a trivial distinction now.

“I… I don’t know… Anders probably has good reason to be worried. What you’ve brought me has helped but I can’t say it’s what I’ve been craving.”

Fenris doesn’t flinch at Karl’s honesty but he can’t say he’s not uncomfortable with it. The implication of his words hits surprisingly close to home; since tasting Hawke’s blood, it’s all Fenris has been able to think about. He has to work to keep his mind occupied with other things. It is only because control is a thing he has perfected over many years that he can he around Hawke without it becoming obvious to her. 

“But Anders—or his demon—has cut you off… Have you not tried hunting elsewhere?”

Karl doesn’t answer right away. When he does the words are quiet. “I have reason to believe so… Though I have no memory of it.”

Fenris tenses, hearing the unspoken implication in his words. “Your demon took you over.”

“Yes.”

“You would tell me this freely? Even knowing my association with a vampire hunter? She is not merciful to those she considers a threat.”

Karl doesn’t raise his voice, nor does he look Fenris in the eye as he answers, “Perhaps it is better that you know.”

“Anders would not be pleased to hear you speak in such a way.”

Karl sighs. “Believe me, I know.”

“Can you not fight it?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing? ...I almost thought I was managing. Until I saw Anders.”

Fenris does not know what to do with Karl’s candidness. He is not sure what Karl wants him to do with it but he does not like his suspicions. He looks at Karl. The blood has put some colour back in his features but he looks tired all the same. Fenris knows him to be only a few years older than he is yet he looks many more so. 

Karl meets his gaze briefly and Fenris looks away, annoyed. Though at whom he cannot say. What is he supposed to tell him? Does Karl expect his pity? In some ways he supposes he does feel it. Though perhaps it would be more accurate to call it empathy than pity. It is not something Fenris ever thought he could feel for a mage but he has to admit there are a few similarities to their stories. Fenris knows better than anyone what it is like to have his existence revolve solely around someone he should despise, only to find himself suddenly at a loss without that person to tell him how to live. Fenris is still figuring things out even after years on his own. And Karl… Karl is not adapting nearly so well as Fenris did, even in those early days. 

That’s not to say that Fenris handled his new freedom well. Adapting to it was far from easy but he cannot recall ever losing time. Rather, his control over his demon was all he had. It was the one constant in what he can remember of his life.

The same can clearly not be said of Karl.

“You must ration what I have given you,” he eventually repeats. “Tomorrow night I will… accompany you on the hunt.”

Karl looks up at him sharply. “Seriously? After all I’ve just told you, you think it’s worth even bothering?”

Fenris frowns. “Perhaps not…” But after three years he starts to think it may be time to think of matters beyond his own survival. “In any case, we will try.”

* * *

The following evening Fenris wakes to a house so quiet it might as well be empty. He hears little more from the streets beyond, in this wealthy, secluded part of Hightown there is never much in the way of traffic. None of this is unusual. Fenris goes on about his evening with the thought of checking on Karl lingering somewhere in his mind. It’s still early when he makes himself go through with it, seeing no point in putting it off. Though perhaps it would be better to wait until later in the night to go out and hunt.

He made a promise though, and whatever his feelings may be towards Anders, he does feel some concern over Karl’s wellbeing after their conversation last night.

When he approaches Karl’s room, he doesn’t have to knock to know he’ll receive no answer. He can already sense it.

Fenris pushes open the door to the room feeling a sense of disquiet rising within him. It swings open and Fenris’ eyes sweep across the darkened room. Karl is not where Fenris left him. He is nowhere to be seen. 

The only sign of him left in the room is the bag Fenris had brought him last night. Its contents left scattered across the floor, each bag that had been filled to the brim last night with blood, now torn open and licked clean.

Fenris listens but the house is as quiet as it has been all evening and even when he searches the other rooms of the house, he finds nothing. 

Karl is gone.


	29. Gone

The knock on the front door comes after dark but still early enough for Marian not to have thought of leaving for work. None of the others have come back from their own jobs yet; Merrill has a late appointment at her studio tonight and Bethany is probably trying to coax Anders to close up the clinic at a reasonable hour. Which leaves Marian with the house to herself.

She doesn’t have to wonder who might be calling on her because the knock is accompanied by that familiar shiver of her hunter senses reacting to the presence of a nearby vampire. Sure enough, when she opens the door Fenris is standing there on the other side.

“Good,” he says, without wasting any time, “you are here. I may need your assistance. Unless… Where is the mage?” He keeps his voice low, thankfully, since the last thing Marian needs is anyone overhearing that there are mages living here, at an address where none are registered.

“You mean Anders?” asks Marian, guessing because Merrill is usually ‘Witch’, while Bethany is simply ‘Bethany’. “He’s not back from the clinic yet.”

“Then he is not with Karl?”

“I don’t think so? Bethany was with him today and she’s not back yet either. I assume that means they’re coming back together. What’s going on, Fenris?”

Fenris looks... not worried, exactly. Perhaps slightly disconcerted. He frowns at her response. “He is missing. Karl. I would think little of it but that he rarely leaves his room and tonight I had agreed to go hunting with him. To provide supervision. He showed no objection to it last night. With the state he is in... I believe his disappearance may be cause for concern.”

Marian sighs. While normally in her line of work having a specific case to follow up is preferable to wandering about looking for trouble, this is not something she’d ever wanted to have to deal with. Not considering the implications for Anders. “Okay,” she answers anyway because she may not like it but it’s not as though she has any choice. “Let me get my things. Hopefully we can find him before Anders is any the wiser. I don’t want to think about how he’d react if…” Marian has turned away to where she keeps her hunting gear but there’s no mistaking the sound outside that suggests she may already be too late. 

She turns and peers out, past Fenris, at the car pulling up just in front of the house. It’s Bethany and, yes, Anders is in the passenger seat beside her. Letting out another resigned sigh, Marian turns back to her gear and resumes grabbing what she needs for the hunt: jacket, boots, stake. When she looks back around, Bethany has reached the front door. 

“You’re heading out early,” she comments.

Anders follows behind her and his attention is fixed firmly on Fenris, his expression somewhere between hope and apprehension, as though he doesn’t know which of them to settle upon. “Fenris. How is Karl? Have you seen him today?”

“I… have not.”

Anders frowns. “Oh. But I thought… someone should be keeping an eye on him...”

Fenris glances at Marian. She holds back a sigh. “Might as well just tell him. He’ll only go over there himself otherwise.” 

“Tell me what?” asks Anders, glancing worriedly between them. “Is Karl alright?”

“I cannot say,” answers Fenris. “When I went to look for him he was gone. The blood bags I left for him licked clean.”

Anders pales. “And there was no indication of where he might have gone? Or if he plans to come back?”

“I imagine that once he has found what he’s looking for he will return.”

“Okay…” says Anders, rubbing a hand over his face. “Do we really need to be alarmed? I mean, he’s gone out hunting—that’s normal, isn’t it?”

Fenris shakes his head. “With the amount of blood he’s had already… no. That’s not normal.”

“We’ll track him down,” says Marian. 

“Then I’m coming with you,” Anders immediately replies. “I can help.”

“It might be better if you don’t.”

“To the void with that,” Anders snaps. “If he’s lost himself, do you really think you stand a better chance of talking him down?”

She doesn’t want to say that she’s more worried about talking not being an option anymore. One look at Anders’ face tells her he won’t hear it. “We should go now then.”

“I can drive you,” suggests Bethany. “That way you can cover more ground more quickly.”

There’s a feeling of resistance that spikes whenever Bethany suggests getting involved in her work somehow but Marian can see any argument would take more time than they can likely spare. “Fine. Let’s go.”

They’ve been circling the streets of Lowtown for a little over twenty minutes, keeping their eyes out for any sign of Karl, when Marian gets a call. She only has to see Aveline’s name flash up on the screen to be flooded with a bad feeling. She answers and wishes she wasn’t sitting directly behind Anders with no way of speaking privately. 

“Hawke, I need you.”

“What is it? I’m in the middle of something right now.”

“Unless your ‘something’ is the vampire killer at large right now, it can wait.”

Marian’s bad feeling gets worse.

“Where are you?”

“The docks. Get here fast. This was a recent kill; it’s possible the vampire that did it hasn’t gone far. I could use your talents to track it down.”

She wants it not to be true. To be a coincidence. But she only has to think of the grim look on Fenris’ face earlier to know how unlikely that is. “Text me the address,” she tells Aveline. “I’ll be there.”

Marian hangs up the phone. Anders has turned around in his seat to frown at her. 

“Head to the docks,” she tells Bethany. 

“Hawke,” says Anders in a warning tone. “We’re looking for Karl. Don’t tell me you’ve been distracted by another job.”

“I might have found him,” she mutters, unable to meet his eyes.

* * *

She keeps the conversation with Aveline as brief as possible. While she has no problem convincing Fenris and Bethany to wait for her in the car, Anders insists on going with her. So they both see the body with its throat torn and bloody and then Marian gets to see the way Anders’ face drains of colour as the severity of the situation slowly begins to cut through his denial. And there’s nothing she can think to say so she just promises Aveline that they’ll find and stop the culprit. Then she tugs on Anders’ sleeve and watches him jolt back to the present before turning wide, fearful eyes on her. 

There’s still nothing to say. So Marian says nothing and leads him back to the others.

There’s a trail. It’s not obvious but as soon as they park up a safe distance away from Aveline’s barricade Fenris is able to pick it up, the scent of blood leading them further along the waterfront then back, past one of the warehouses towards the sort of dimly lit backstreets that are the perfect sort of place to get ambushed. Marian doesn’t like it and soon enough, she can feel the hairs on arms standing on end. It’s different from the feeling she gets from Fenris. After so much time spent with him she’s figured out how to pick him out from other vampires. 

“It’s him,” Fenris mutters. “This scent… there is no mistaking it now.”

Anders doesn’t say anything. He just looks fearfully ahead and keeps walking. Marian had expected him to argue but his silence is almost as unsettling as the sense of wrongness that creeps beneath her skin, growing with each step she takes. She leads the way through the darkness. The light from the moons above is the only illumination in these quiet streets. Quiet, until Fenris speaks up again, “We may need to inform your guard captain of another location. Unless you intend to hide the evidence of what has been done here.”

Marian doesn’t have to ask to understand his meaning. The only reason he would know what’s to come before she does is that his sense of smell is far greater than her own. They only need to walk a few more minutes before she can smell it too: a thick metallic stench that sets something racing inside her. When she stops, taking a moment to calm herself, she can feel Fenris’ eyes on her. She doesn’t mind it as much as the questioning look from Bethany, or the impatient glance from Anders. Perhaps he feels the same peculiar rush, something akin to this thing in her blood that drives her forward, telling her to hunt. She knows it’s true, she sees it sometimes on those nights they roam the streets together. And she sees it sometimes in the way he looks at her. 

But tonight isn’t one of those nights and now is not the time for such thoughts so she stops and holds out an arm in front of Bethany, warning her to stay back. There must be something in her voice then because Bethany doesn’t question her as she hangs back. 

It doesn’t take long after that to find the body: another middle-aged man drained of blood, Though Marian wonders how much the vampire who did this could have drunk, given the gruesome mess that’s been made of the alleyway. It’d be enough to make anyone sick. But Marian hasn’t had that reaction to the sight of blood in a long time. It stirs something far different in her now. Once again, Marian forces the feeling back and checks to see Bethany is still following her instruction to keep back. But her eyes catch Anders on the way; for a mere second, his hands light with fire, then the rest of his body follows but blue now; cracks of light shine through from inside him, illuminating the bloody mess in front of them. What had been black shadows in a darkened alley now reflecting violent red as he doubles over, his hands pressed to either side of his head. Bethany is still behind them but Marian steps instinctively between her and Anders. He pays neither of them any mind. 

“I know. I know. You’re right,” he mutters to himself—or to Justice, it would seem. A moment later he stands upright and the blue light has faded from his skin. He takes a breath and looks at Fenris. “Justice is against your ‘hide the evidence’ suggestion.”

Marian doesn’t relax. “Are you going to be alright?” she asks, admittedly less out of concern for Anders than for Bethany. She’s torn between the urge to insist she go back to the car and not wanting to let her out of her sight.

Anders’ face is grim. He doesn’t spare Marian a glance as he answers, “Fine. Let’s just keep going.”

Her main consolation is that Justice at least seems to be thinking rationally in this situation where Anders is clearly struggling. It was a mistake to let him come. Whatever they’re about to find next, it won’t be something he or Bethany should see. But it’s too late now. The only thing left to do is to follow the trail leading away from the body. Even in the darkness Marian doesn’t have a problem finding it. It practically calls to her, leading her through streets the locals know not to tread after nightfall, drawing ever closer to the vampire side of town. Is that where he’d been heading, she wonders. Had he been trying to make it back to his own kind? 

He never made it, if that’s the case. They’re still several streets away from there when she begins to sense he’s near. It’s that unsettled feeling beneath her skin that sets the hairs on her arms on end even beneath her jacket. It intensifies as they move closer and churns in a sickening way with the anticipation burning inside her. They’ve not been following the trail for long but she knows now they’ve reached the end of it. When they find Karl, he’s alone. The street they find him in is little more than an alleyway. He crouches close to the ground, doubled over in an almost perfect mirror of Anders fighting off Justice just a few minutes earlier. 

“Karl?” Anders whispers, taking a few hesitant steps before coming to a stop. Karl does not look up. If anything, he folds in on himself all the more. Anders calls on his magic to create a small light to see by and Marian still can’t see his face but now she can easily make out the blood on his hands.

“Anders… this can’t go on.” As soon as Marian speaks, Karl’s head turns and the eyes that find her are not those of the man she met a few weeks ago. She’s seen that stare before, countless times, from the faces of the ones she hunts nightly. 

Under normal circumstances there would be no question of what to do next. Marian can feel the weight of her stake in the inner pocket of her jacket, just as she can feel that burning sensation in her blood reminding her that she’s a hunter and the hunched figure in front of her is the one she’s meant to hunt. She reaches for the stake, telling herself that she can’t take the risk of staying unarmed, not when Bethany is here.

“Hawke, no,” says Anders but he’s not looking at her. He’s responding to her words and not the slow movement of her slipping her weapon out of the inside of her jacket. He keeps his focus on Karl, telling him softly, “Karl, look at me.”

The eyes that aren’t Karl’s, not really, glance disinterestedly towards Anders then flit back to the stake in Marian’s hand and she knows there’s no point in the soft approach Anders is taking. The being in front of them now is not Karl. It’s a demon. 

She asks, “The man we found back there, who was he? Do you know? Do you even care?” 

Karl doesn’t speak. He gets to his feet, eyes still locked upon her.

“Hawke, this isn’t helping,” Anders snaps.

She wants to ask him if this is the life he truly wants for his lover but Marian doesn’t get a chance to respond before the creature wearing Karl’s face snarls and rushes forwards. He doesn’t make it half of the way towards her before Fenris has him. He holds him with an arm across Karl’s chest. His other hand is out of view but the flash of blue as Fenris moves gives a clue as to where it ended up. That and the sudden agony and fear written across Karl’s face. 

“No! Let him go!” cries Anders.

“When I trust he will make no move to attack,” answers Fenris. “You think you can calm him? Do it.”

But Anders doesn’t need to try. The shift in Karl’s expression is a subtle one, masked by agony, but for the first time tonight she sees something human in that look. That’s how she knows it’s Karl speaking, not the demon, when he chokes out, “Anders… I’m sorry.”

“Karl…” Anders stumbles forward. “He’s back. He’s fine. You can let him go.”

“He’s not fine, Anders,” says Marian but she has already faltered. She grips the stake in her hands and despite this roar of blood inside her screaming to be unleashed into a frenzy, she doesn’t know what to do with it. Fenris at least seems to agree with her words for he doesn’t loosen his grip though Karl doesn’t try to struggle. She asks him, “Who were those men? Slavers? Killers? Or just the first easy victims you stumbled across?”

“Stop—” begins Anders but Marian cuts him off.

“No! Do you think there’s any coming back from this for him? He’s lost control of himself.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t fix it!” Anders insists and his expression is somehow both pleading and furious in the same moment. “You think I’ve never lost control? Are you going to threaten me too?”

“Anders…” Karl speaks at last. “She’s right...”

“No, she’s not fucking right!”

He doesn’t even flinch at Anders’ outburst. He’s looking down at his hands, stained dark with blood. Seeing the look on his face, Marian feels the familiar rage that has been building up inside her but she doesn’t know where to direct it. This isn’t a situation like any she’s encountered before. It’s not something to be angry about. Not with Karl, anyway. It’s just sad.

She always thought she hated vampires but she doesn’t hate Karl for what he is. He never wanted it. None of this is his fault.

In the heavy silence that follows Anders’ shout, Karl doesn’t struggle. She sees the questioning look Fenris directs at her and doesn’t know what to tell him. There’s some hesitancy in the way he holds him but he doesn’t let go as Karl murmurs through painful ragged breaths, “This isn’t what I wanted… None of this is. I don’t… I don’t even know how I got here. I can’t remember.”

“Then maybe it wasn’t you.”

“He’s covered in blood,” says Marian. “It was him.”

Anders doesn’t even look at her. He just stares at Karl as though he still might prove her wrong. Marian knows he won’t. She sees it written across his face.

“It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened… Anders… I’m sorry…”

“Karl, no… You don’t…” Anders chokes and stumbles over his words but ultimately doesn’t seem to know what to say. This isn’t something he can argue his way out of and beneath the helpless refusal to accept it Marian is sure he knows it. 

“I’m glad I got to see you again,” says Karl.

There’s no other warning. There’s nothing. Karl lurches forward and while Fenris had begun to relax, the sudden movement now takes him by surprise. It takes them all by surprise. It happens too quickly for any of them to follow, to note whether it was Karl or the demon, taking him over again as Marian had known it would. She sees the flash of blue light as Fenris fails to keep him in place. Karl falls forward and there’s blood on Fenris’ hand.

There’s blood. And then there’s ash.

And Anders’ screams… Bethany’s cry of horror. Even Fenris stares at the slick crimson coating his fingers like he can’t quite believe what just happened. 

Marian can’t either. A minute ago she’d almost been prepared to do it herself. Now all she can hear is Karl’s apology. His goodbye. Anders sobbing ‘ _no, no, no…_ ’ on his knees beside the ashes of his lover. 

Bethany stands to the side, a hand pressed over her mouth, tears in her eyes.

“Mage…” Fenris begins eventually, “Anders…” 

Anders doesn’t even seem to hear him. Fenris falls quiet. There’s something in his expression that Marian has never seen before—or if she has, not with such potency. She sees just a glimpse of it and then it’s gone. He turns and starts to walk away. 

Marian starts after him. She grabs him by the arm then lets go when he stiffens at her touch. Thankfully, he doesn’t walk away. She says, low enough so Anders won’t hear. “That was not your fault.”

He shakes his head, barely. “It hardly seems to matter.” He looks at her regretfully. “My assistance is no longer needed here. I… will speak to you another night.” 

One last look back and he walks away. This time she lets him. 

She glances back at the others and sees Bethany approach Anders. She says something to him but all Marian can hear is Anders’ voice in her mind pleading with her to hold back and with Fenris to let him go. 

Marian turns away, takes out her phone and calls Aveline. 


	30. Our hearts are wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Our Hearts Are Wrong by Jessica Lea Mayfield. It made me think of Fenhawke as soon as I heard it. There's also some game dialogue in this chapter. It fit the situation so it made sense to use it. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Marian doesn’t see Anders over the following days. For someone as familiar with grief as she is, she certainly doesn’t know how to deal with it in other people. She leaves that to Bethany. And then she feels bad about it because it’s not exactly fair to Bethany or Anders. But every time she thinks about going to see him where he’s holed up in his clinic, all she can think about is how he’d begged her to help and how miserably she’d failed at that.

She doesn’t know what she could have done differently. Maybe she should have refused to take Anders with her. Would that have been better?

Was there any saving Karl?

Bethany’s patience is never ending. She doesn’t complain about Marian’s refusal to help. But she worries. As far as she can tell, Anders is dealing with the loss by… not really dealing with it at all. He hasn’t returned from the clinic in three days. And that’s not through any lack of coaxing from Bethany. 

“It doesn’t feel like I’m even talking to him. Not really. He’s impossibly focused,” Bethany tells her back at the house after the third night of failing to get Anders to join them. He’d been back once since Karl’s death. That first night they’d brought him back themselves and sat with him and tried to look after him but he hadn’t wanted it. He spoke to them only to tell them he was going to bed. In the morning he was gone and they’d almost panicked until Bethany went to the clinic and found him there, treating a patient and refusing to speak a word about what had happened the night before. 

“It has to be Justice,” she says. “I’ve seen it before; Anders lets Justice do what he wants so that he doesn’t have to think about what he needs. I’ve just never seen it quite as bad as this.”

“At least you’re keeping an eye on him,” Marian mumbles into her coffee. “That might be all you can do for now.”

“Perhaps,” Bethany allows with a frown. “He’ll have to come back home eventually, I suppose.” She stops and stares into her tea without drinking it. “Have you spoken to Garrett yet?” Marian doesn’t answer and Bethany’s face somehow manages to fall even further. “Oh, Marian, you have tried, haven’t you?”

“I’m not sure if I should. Garrett’s finally got away from all this mess. Calling him would only drag him back into it. Do you think there’s even a chance he wouldn’t just drop everything and come back here? And what good would it do when Anders won’t even acknowledge anyone besides his patients?”

Bethany keeps on frowning at her. “They’re close, though. Maybe it’s what Anders needs right now.”

“It’s not what Garrett needs. And they’ve known each other for five minutes, Bethany. _You’re_ his best friend.”

Bethany sighs unhappily. “I just don’t think it’s your decision to make. He’s going to find out eventually and the longer it takes, the angrier he’s going to be with us for not telling him. You know he’d want to know.”

She has a point but Marian’s still not sure if she wants to take it. Her own feels fairly valid too and she thinks it might be worth Garrett’s anger to keep him from coming back and getting hurt all over again. 

“Just let me think about it,” she says finally.

Anders isn’t the only one who has managed to make himself scarce over the past few days. Fenris has declined several of Marian’s invitations to go out on patrol with her, which he’s never done before. The idea that he might be blaming himself for what happened has crossed her mind but doesn’t seem right somehow. Surely he understands that it wasn’t his fault. She hadn’t pegged him as the type to wallow over his mistakes instead of doing what needs to be done but perhaps she doesn’t know him as well as she thought. She certainly can’t think of any other reason for his strange, elusive behaviour. 

So Marian decides that while she may not be of any use with Anders, Fenris, at least, she can talk to.

He doesn’t turn her away when she shows up on his doorstep later that night so that seems like a good start. She waits only until he has invited her into the building and closed the door behind her before she begins, “So, I get why you’d be upset over what happened the other night but I’m not quite sure why you’re avoiding me over it.”

She turns to look at him and sees his raised eyebrow, the black of it showing clearly through the pale hair that falls over his face. And she thinks _‘fuck’._ She’s said too much. Why does she always end up saying too much around him? 

“Sorry,” she mutters. “I’m just saying, you can talk about it. To me… if you want to.”

Fenris’ expression only changes to become more neutral. Harder to read. “I’ve killed people before, Hawke. Vampires. Mortals. This is hardly the first time.”

“I know. But… You two weren’t exactly friends but you did live together. He was supposed to be on our side. That’s not quite an everyday situation.”

“Hm.” Fenris looks away and Marian once again has the feeling that she’s said too much, or the wrong thing. Suddenly, she’s not sure why she came here. She could have left this to Fenris to figure out on his own and let him have his space. It's not like she needs him to do her job. 

Fenris heads in the direction of his preferred sitting room and indicates for her to follow. Marian hesitates, still considering leaving but he was the one who said he could talk. She probably shouldn’t go back on that now. 

She follows and takes a seat on the chair across from his. It feels like a safe enough distance away from him, though she feels ridiculous for even stopping to consider that. 

“I never told you how I managed to escape from Danarius,” Fenris says, which is just about the last thing she’d expected to come out of his mouth at that moment. Marian had been so certain that he was upset because of the other night, because of his part in Karl’s death. Now she wonders if she’s missed the mark completely.

“No,” she responds after some hesitation. She’s not sure if she feels comfortable with the unfamiliar territory this conversation is leading to but at the same time something in her is oddly satisfied with the idea of him feeling comfortable enough to open up with her. That, and Fenris is undeniably fascinating to Marian. That’s exactly what makes her nervous, though; it feels dangerous.

Marian has never been one for playing it safe.

“I suppose I just figured you fought your way out.”

Fenris shakes his head. “I could say that the reason I stayed is because he ordered me to, that I couldn’t disobey him. But in truth, the thought of doing so never crossed my mind. The ritual that gave me my markings took my memory of any other life. Serving Danarius was all I knew. No, in the end, it was mere chance. We were in Seheron during a Qunari attack and had to make our escape. There are formidable vampire hunters among the Qunari, I’m sure you are aware. I managed to get Danarius to safety: a helicopter that was evacuating another Magister—one of Danarius’ associates—back to the mainland. But there was no room for a slave. I was left behind. I was rescued from the hunters by a rebel group known as the Fog Warriors. They took me in. Even when they found out what I was, they let me stay, gave me animal blood to feed on.”

“Woah, really?” 

“Is it so different from what you did for me?” He looks at her with that serious expression and she wonders if her motives that night are still something he’s trying to understand.

She wants him to understand. But sometimes she’s not so sure she knows the answer to that herself. Still, she tries, “Sort of? I approached you because I had reason to believe I could trust you.”

He shrugs. “They kept me under guard until I was satisfied with the blood they gave me.”

“And were you?”

He looks faintly disgusted at the memory. “Not at all. But I survived. I would not feed on those who had shown me mercy. I grew fond of them. They lived in a way I had never seen before.”

“But you didn’t stay with them?”

“For several months I did. And then Danarius found me. When the rebels tried to defend me he ordered me to kill them. So I did. I killed them all.”

For the first time since Fenris began his story, Marian sees the intense regret he feels. She stares at him, not knowing what to think. “He used his power of command on you?” she manages to ask eventually. “Couldn’t you have fought it?”

“I did not try. It felt… inevitable. Danarius had returned and this fantasy life was over. But once it was done… I looked down at their bodies. I felt… I couldn’t…” He looks away. “I ran. I never looked back.”

Marian can think of no way to respond. The implication of Fenris’ story hits her all at once. It’s something she’s been aware of on some level but chose not to actually deal with, for reasons she doesn’t want to have to think about right now. 

“You understand, don’t you?” he says. “As long as Danarius lives, your trust in me is not only misplaced but dangerous. What happened the other night reminded me of that.”

“What happened with Karl?” Marian frowns in confusion. “What does that have to do with any of this?”

“Nothing, other than it illustrated a point. They wanted to build a life together—a mortal and a vampire. And they failed spectacularly at it. It was as inevitable as what I did to the Fog Warriors. As inevitable as my turning on you the same way the moment Danarius shows up and orders it. I have been a fool to pretend it could be otherwise.”

Marian hears the bitterness in his voice and it stings in ways she couldn’t have predicted. 

“So that’s it? You really think it’s that simple? That you’ll give in the moment you see him again? That you’ll just do what he says without even trying to fight back? If that’s the case, why stop running in the first place? Why did you even ask for my help?”

Fenris bows his head so that his hair falls over his eyes, shielding them from her view. “It felt different then. Before I knew you. Now I… I can’t…” She’s never seen Fenris struggle for words like he’s done tonight.

“You can’t what?” she asks without meaning to. She’s not sure she wants to know whatever it is. She’s not sure she’s ready. 

But Fenris doesn’t seem able to answer. He raises his head and the look he gives her is pleading. Marian has never seen him look so vulnerable. Not even that night together in her bed. That was a different sort of vulnerability than this. Strange how it should make her afraid. She pushes back the feeling and takes a breath. Then she shakes her head. “No. Okay? No. I’m not just going to let him take you. I’ll kill him myself if that’s what it takes for you to be free of him.”

She means it as a promise but if Marian thought it would help she was mistaken. Fenris doesn’t look reassured. He shakes his head and replies, “I am not asking for you to let him take me. But I will find another way. One that does not put you or your friends at risk.”

“You’re one of my friends now,” she says once again before her brain can catch up with her mouth. “That means you’re under my protection. Just like Bethany, or Merrill, or Anders—”

“I’m a vampire, Hawke. Just knowing me is the opposite of protecting them. You know better than to keep it up. Or you used to.” He meets her eyes when he says it and hers glare furiously back. He’s the first to look away. “We cannot be friends.”

She doesn’t remember getting to her feet and only notices that she’s done so when she’s looking down at him with hands clenched in fists at her sides. She’s nearly shaking with fury that’s come out of nowhere. 

“Fine,” she spits. “Have it your way. If you’re not interested in fighting for what you want then fuck knows why I should bother.”

She turns. He says her name as she walks away but she’s too angry to look at him. She still doesn’t know why. She doesn’t care. She just keeps walking.

She walks until she reaches the docks, not far from where the terrible incident took place a few nights ago. She hadn’t given too much thought about where she was heading, letting the anger inside her lead the way. Standing in that place, it’s like no time has passed. She can almost still smell it, the spilled blood that had stirred something in her she knows none of her friends could understand. None, she’d thought, except for Fenris. 

But she’d been wrong about that, hadn’t she? Thinking Fenris understood her. She doesn’t know if she’s more angry at him or at herself. Or if it’s all just left over from that night and how the adrenaline from the hunt had built and built and she’d been forced to simply let it go. It wasn’t that she’d wanted to kill Karl. But she’d wanted to kill something. 

She can’t think about what it means when she gets like this. How similar it makes her to the ones she hunts. There’s no going back from the choice she made when she became a hunter. She lives with it and does what she can. She keeps her family close and they keep her grounded. It’s only when it’s just her and Fenris that she trusts herself to let go. But Fenris isn’t here and she can’t hold this feeling in another night. 

The streets are too quiet but Marian knows where to find the fight she’s looking for. She keeps walking and when she reaches the edge of vampire territory she doesn’t stop. 

It’s easy when she gets to this part of town where there are vampire nests everywhere. The first group she comes across is small and that’s almost too easy but more come soon enough. She kills three with her stake before she decides to have some fun and slips the stake into the gap inside her sleeve. She uses the gap between opponents to duck and slip the blade she keeps in her boot into her palm. A vampire she’s already sensed coming from another street closes in on her and she slits its throat. And there’s nothing like the spray of arterial blood to really get a fight going. A vampire won’t die from that but it won’t heal quickly. 

The next one charges and swipes at her, catching her across the chest. She keeps baring forwards, the pain and the scent of blood in the air spur her on. She makes that vampire bleed too. A hard smack to the head and it spits the stuff. The vampire glares at her and it’s eyes are deep black. She grins at the reaction. It doesn’t frighten her like this, seeing the look in a vampire’s eyes and knowing there’s something similar in her own. It’s what she’s meant for. What she’s good at. She hits again and lands a kick. Then another gets her in the side, knocking her to the ground and it hurts but it’s exactly what she needs. She laughs at what they don’t know because they can hurt her all they want but it won’t weaken her; it just makes her more dangerous. 

More have arrived now so she slips her stake back out of her sleeve and kills the one that knocked her down. She kicks out at another that gets too close before managing to get back to her feet. Then she fights with her stake in one hand and her knife in the other. It doesn’t matter how many more of them arrive with each one she kills because each death only spurs her on. Each blow is something to draw upon to make her own hit harder and faster. 

When one gets its claws past her defences, tearing into her abdomen, she almost reaches the limits of what she can take but it doesn’t stop her from driving her knife into the creature’s neck. She knows how to use the blood that spills, how to take the vampire’s life force back into her own to heal herself. Just enough to keep her standing, to keep her fighting.

She laughs with the taste of blood on her tongue as she remembers how she thought she’d needed Fenris for this. Why had she thought that? It had been fun to fight at his side but other than him she’s never met a vampire she couldn’t kill with her own two hands. She doesn’t need him. She’s so much stronger than that.

They stop coming eventually and she’s still standing, if only barely. She thinks it’s probably a good thing that there’s an entrance to Darktown around here somewhere. She finds it eventually and stumbles into the darkness. Which is probably not how one should go about entering Darktown, especially when any stumbling is due to severe blood loss. With no one left to fight, the frenzy of battle has worn off and if someone new tried to start something now that might be a problem. She starts to think that perhaps this time she may have overdone it.

So while Darktown possibly isn’t the best place to be heading half dead in the middle of the night, it is where the best healer she knows is currently residing. Hopefully. She’s going to be pissed if she walked all this way for nothing. 

She could have gone home of course, because Bethany’s healing magic is coming along brilliantly with all the practice she’s been getting lately, but she doesn’t want Bethany to see her like this. Anders she can handle. Probably. Based on what Bethany has told her, he’s been focused on healing and not much else lately. She might even get away without having to answer any questions.

Miraculously, she makes it to the clinic in one—albeit loosely held together—piece and the light is still on inside. She thumps on the door before shouting for Anders to let her in.

When the door is thrown open Marian thinks she can see blue light fading from Anders’ eyes, though the sight is brief enough she could have imagined it. She sort of doubts it though. She peers up at him and slurs, “Hey… might have to admit it this time… I’m not feeling… that great.”

He catches her when she stumbles towards him. “Hawke! What happened? And why are you alone like this?”

Anders leads her into the clinic and Marian tries to walk along with him with her arm slung over his shoulder. He notices her struggling and scoops her up into his skinny arms. 

“Woah, you’re stronger than you look,” Marian mumbles and it must be bad because she’s pretty sure a comment like that would usually get a smart comeback. 

Instead, Anders just frowns down at her and asks, “Seriously Hawke, who left you alone like this?”

“No one. I went out alone. Might have... overestimated how many vampires I can take on at once.”

He sets her down on his examination table and glares at her. “I didn’t think even you could be that reckless.”

“Just. Heal now. Scold later.”

With his mouth set in an angry line he holds his hands over her, letting them glow blue as he assesses the damage. 

“I’m going to remove your shirt now,” he warns.

“Go for it. Nothing you haven’t seen before. As you would probably remind me if you weren’t in such a shitty mood.” She says it then she winces as she remembers that the reason his mood sucks is because the love of his life died earlier this week and now she’s gone and nearly got herself killed too. _Great job there, Hawke._ “Sorry. Just do what you’ve got to do.”

She helps him by sitting up so he can remove her jacket and pull the shirt up over her head. Her torso is all claw marks and fresh bruises with several deep lacerations over her belly. Anders urges her to lie back as he gets to work healing right away. 

It takes longer than any of her usual visits but Anders is the best. He gets it done and afterwards she only feels dizzy from blood loss.

“I’m keeping you here for the rest of the night,” he says in a tone that suggests he expects her to argue. Marian doesn’t think she can. It was hard enough work just getting here. She’s in no rush to leave just yet. 

Anders goes on, “You need… Maker, you probably need a transfusion but I don’t have anything to give you.” He rubs his hand over his head, seeming not to notice the streak of blood it leaves behind. He looks way too broken up over that realisation. 

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m a hunter, remember? I heal fast. I’ll just sleep it off and I’ll be good as new.”

It doesn’t help. If anything, now he just looks angry on top of looking like he’s about to cry. Maker’s ass. Marian doesn’t know what to say.

“It’s only because you’re a hunter that you made it here. Anyone else would be dead.”

The way he looks at her, she can’t find it in herself to argue. “I’m sorry. I should have been more careful.”

“Well, why weren’t you?” he snaps.

She doesn’t want to say. She starts to pick up her bloodstained clothes but Anders stops her. “I’ve got something else you can wear.” He quickly retreats into a back room and returns with a clean shirt and a washcloth. He gives her the cloth first and Marian uses it to wipe away the worst of the blood staining her skin. She almost thinks she’s got away without answering his question but he pushes again as she works, “Well?”

Marian huffs. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I was angry.” Anders raises an eyebrow, waiting for her to go on. “I had an argument with Fenris.”

“Oh.” Anders doesn’t meet her gaze then and she can’t quite tell if it’s because he’s never liked Fenris much or because of what happened three nights ago. Because he blames Fenris for Karl’s death. They haven’t spoken about it. At the moment Marian doesn’t think she has the energy to. “I thought you two were getting along like a house on fire.”

It still makes her uncomfortable to admit it but she’s too tired to think she can lie convincingly. What’s the point in it now? “I guess we were. Apparently that’s the problem. Fenris has decided vampires and mortals can’t be friends.”

Anders isn’t fast enough to smother the look of anguish that crosses his face and Marian feels at once like a heartless idiot.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Anders.”

“Don’t be. After all, he’s probably right.” He turns away, takes a few steps, and then sinks into his desk chair with his head in his hands. “I had that figured out once. If I hadn’t doubted it Karl would probably still be…”

She wants to say something to comfort him but she feels as though everything that comes to mind will only make it worse. Because that’s just what she does and she’s already put her foot in her mouth enough times tonight. Still, Anders just looks so pitiful sitting there. It takes most of the strength she has left to drag herself over to him. 

Anders sees her move and starts to protest, “Hawke, you shouldn’t—"

“Shut up,” she orders, placing her hands on his shoulders and pushing him back down onto the chair. She puts her arms around him and pulls him against her. “I’m trying to comfort you, you idiot. Just let me do it.”

He surprises her by laughing. Though what comes out of him is a short, choked sound that doesn’t sound in any way happy. It seems to signify that he’s accepted her words because he turns his face against her and returns the hug with his arms around her waist. After a short while he lets go. He looks at her thoughtfully then and she thinks for a moment that her hug might have helped more than she thought.

“What?” she prompts, wondering what that look is about.

Anders shrugs, just barely, the sluggish movement belying the impossible weight those shoulders always seem to carry. “Just thinking that you’ve never hugged me like that before.” She narrows her eyes at him but he keeps going, “We’ve had sex but you’ve never hugged me just for the sake of it.”

“No need to make a big thing of it,” she says reflexively, sneering a little. She doesn’t quite mean to do that but something like a smile tugs at Anders’ lips. It does very little to take away from the sadness in his face but it’s something.

“I don’t mean to. It’s just… thank you.” 

She doesn’t know how it is he’s saying that after that night. His anger earlier had made more sense than this. But she can’t think about that so all she says is, “Okay, well I must be a worse friend than I thought if that’s something you see as a touching experience.”

She waits for him to tell her that she’s right, that she’s a terrible friend who let him down when he needed her most but the anger she’d expected doesn’t come. “No,” he says quietly instead. “I’m glad to be your friend. There were enough times I thought I’d ruined that before it even began.”

She frowns at how the words make her feel. He hadn’t said it to hurt her and yet she feels a sudden ache at the thought. Is it because of Fenris? Because she’s still sore over how she’d offered him her friendship just a few hours ago and he’d thrown it back in her face? She’d worked out a lot of her anger over that by fighting until it took all she had left in her just to make it to Anders’ clinic. She’d thought she didn’t have the energy to maintain that anger but apparently the feeling just comes naturally to her.

Fenris is only part of it; it had hurt to be rejected by him but she can’t help but think now of how she always seems to make a mess of these things. Anders offered his friendship from the start and she had treated it with contempt, always keeping him at arm's length over fear of what it really meant. She can’t even be fully kind to him now, while he’s grieving and has most likely just saved her life.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know why you put up with me.”

He raises his eyebrows at that. “I could say the same thing about myself.”

“No, Anders… I’m really sorry. You don’t deserve any of this shit that’s happened to you.”

He frowns and for a while he doesn’t say anything. When he does eventually speak, instead of acknowledging that, he asks, “What happened between you and Fenris?” 

She can’t tell if it’s a convenient way of changing the subject or just his curiosity getting the better of him. “It doesn’t matter,” she answers stiffly. 

Anders rolls his eyes and it’s the most animated he’s looked since he finished healing her. “I know you can’t think you’re fooling me with that. Even before you nearly got yourself killed over it, it was obvious. There’s something between the two of you.” Marian’s jaw clenches as she glares at him in warning but Anders doesn’t seem to care. “I know that look he’s always giving you. Pretty sure I used to give you the same one.” 

“Used to?” she sneers. Anders holds her gaze for a long moment. Then he shrugs and looks away. Marian has to admit it, the past month or so really has changed things between them. She wants to be grateful for it but seeing Anders come out the other side of it all so broken makes that impossible. Instead she’s just sorry. The sneer drops from her lips, leaving a sad frown in its place. 

Anders sighs. “So Fenris tells you he can’t be friends with you anymore and you, in anger, decide to take on what I can only assume was an entire clan of vampires by yourself. And you want me to believe that’s nothing?” 

“Yes.” 

“Even though you know I’m not buying it for a second?” 

“Anders, I’m not doing this with you. We are not going to bond over some shared experience of doomed lo—” she sucks in breath, “—whatever. I’m not doing it.” 

She refuses to look at Anders but she can feel his eyes boring into her all the same. 

“Okay,” he eventually sighs. “You should get some sleep.” 

“Like you can talk,” she mutters. 

He ignores that and tells her, “I have a bed in the back room. It’s not much but it’s better than sleeping out here.”

“And you?”

“I’ll be fine here. I’ve slept in worse places.”

 _Or not slept_ , she thinks. He looks as though he needs the sleep as much as she does but she doesn’t have the energy to argue with him about who should take which bed. She barely gets the boots off her feet before falling onto the cot in the minuscule box room Anders occasionally tries to pass off as a bedroom. She hears the door click behind her, the creak of Anders’ chair as he returns to it and soon after that she’s asleep.


	31. A new perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My OC Rosalie gets a cameo in this as Garrett's Friend From Ferelden. Poor Rosie only ever gets cameos and no fic of her own. Hopefully one day... This probably isn't the most exciting chapter but honestly I'm just proud of myself for not skipping over the section I missed in my first daft ~~and not going on another month long hiatus just to avoid doing it~~.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Ferelden in autumn isn’t quite what Garrett remembers. It’s been over six years since the Blight and he’s been back to the country once or twice since then but never this far south before now. The land is well on its way to recovering but to someone who grew up here, the signs of the devastation the country has suffered are all too obvious. Everything in view is awash with reds and yellows or mossy greens and it’s beautiful but six years is not enough time to hide the skeletons of burned out houses and other destruction the people here haven’t managed to fix yet. He hasn't been anywhere near Lothering. Garrett can only imagine the sort of state his old home might lie in now. He can’t bring himself to visit. 

Instead, his friend Rose has a friend who owns a cottage somewhere in the northern Hinterlands in a spot that by some miracle seems to have come out of the Blight mostly unscathed. They’ve been staying there for about a week, after spending a bit of time in Redcliffe first. Rose invited Garrett to stay for as long as he wanted but only managed to get a little over a week off work for their trip. It’s enough and it’s worth it for the time it affords him to relax. The air here is cool and fresh and smells of damp earth and fallen leaves. Garrett breathes it in and feels not for the first time that it was good to get away from the city. This break was something he needed.

The cottage reminds him of home. Sort of. The low ceilings and the beams and doorways he has to duck to get past take him back. As does the old fireplace he and Rose sit by each night talking and catching up with each other. But it’s not the same really. Maybe if Bethany had taken him up on his offer it would be closer. Still he appreciates the time with Rose. And he much prefers it out here to in the town. There aren’t nearly so many templars in Redcliffe as there are in Kirkwall but any number of templars is enough to make Garrett uneasy. It doesn’t help that Rose is a Circle mage. 

He made a point not to tell Marian about that because he knows how she’d worry. And her way of worrying often comes out sounding a lot like anger which he could honestly do without. 

They were being careful, of course. Rose had to get permission to leave, even just for a short holiday, but she’d been confident that once she was out of town the templars wouldn't bother them. Apparently the rules in Redcliffe are a bit more lax than in Kirkwall or even Denerim. The templar assigned to Rose has been working with her for a few years and apparently seems to trust that she isn't going to run off or do anything too illegal, so it was just a matter of formality to check in and let them know of her plans. 

Seeing Garrett’s look of disbelief at how easy she seems to have it, she tells him she’s lucky and in a way Garrett supposes she is. But it still doesn’t seem right. 

He can’t help but think of Anders. From what little he’s heard of what his life was like before he came to Kirkwall, he’d had it a lot worse than Rose. Garrett’s pretty sure most mages do. 

“Do you ever think of running?” he asks at one point. 

“What better life would I have anywhere else?” she replies simply. “Besides, I have my work. It’s too important to just abandon and live life on the run like you do.” 

“That's not what I do!” Garrett mock bristles at the light jab and Rose smirks back at him. 

“Sort of is. I'm not saying it doesn't suit you. But I can do more where I am.” 

Now that really reminds him of Anders. He never thought of her that way before. Which makes sense because he hadn’t even met Anders until recently and he’s known Rose since high school. But the job was another new thing: helping with relief efforts following the Blight. Even years later, there are still people struggling after losing their homes or family members. She and Anders would probably get along. Maybe he should put them in contact. But perhaps that would only be dangerous with Rose’s connection to the Circle. Garrett himself had had to sneak about during his stay with her. He can only hope no one noticed. 

That’s what starts to make him think. He sits outside the cottage on an old iron patio set with a cup of tea, looking out at the golden red hillside stretching out before him and wonders what has he ever done for anyone besides himself? Oh he's helped people here and there. Because he could or because it paid and he needed the money. But is that really the best he can do?

Rose counts herself lucky to have a job that allows her to help people. And Anders has never even asked for payment for the help he gives. He does what he can because someone needs to and he has the ability to do so. And all the while Garrett had spent half his life simply blowing about like those golden leaves he watches now, caught in the cold autumn wind and moving with much the same lack of direction or purpose as he always has. His only ever goal was not to get caught. Or perhaps to keep moving long enough not to have to think about the things he’d lost. One thing he’s lost since Kirkwall is momentum. He’d thought he was happy enough living the way he did and maybe he was right and it was what he’d needed then. Now, he thinks about everything he’s been moving away from and he wonders how much more he’s given up in doing just that.

He’s sitting there, thinking about things he hadn’t come here to think about, when he hears Rose just behind him. He’d been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t even heard her approach. “You keep getting that look,” she tells him. 

“What look?” Garrett replies, looking round at her in surprise. 

“You just seem kind of down. Want to have a chat? You know, since we’re out here in the beautiful Ferelden countryside with no one else about? It seems as good a place for a heart to heart as any.” 

He almost tells her he’s fine but just before the words are out of his mouth he gets the image in his mind of Marian rolling her eyes at him and stops, feeling foolish. 

“Am I really that obvious?” 

“If you’re trying not to be then I'd say you've got the act down most of the time... but as soon as you think no one's looking, you're an open book.” 

Rose takes the seat next to him and smiles encouragingly when he looks her way. The breeze picks up a strand of her short mouse brown bob and she tucks it back behind a long freckled ear and pulls her thick woollen cardigan tighter around her. 

Garrett frowns down at his tea. “I met someone. That was probably the reason I was in Kirkwall for so long. And... kind of the reason I left.” 

“It didn’t work out?” 

Garrett let’s out a small not very happy laugh. “It didn't even begin. He’s with someone else. I never meant to get so...” he sighs. “I came out here to get my mind off it. But that doesn’t seem to be working out so well.” 

Rose reaches out and gives his hand a squeeze. Her pale freckled fingers look tiny next to his. “I'm sorry Garrett. I know how much that can suck.” 

“I keep thinking that he’d probably like you. He works with a lot of refugees. Healing them.” 

Garrett realises that talking about Anders is probably not the best way to go about forgetting about what happened with him. But the thing is, Anders is difficult to forget, whether Garrett talks about him or not. There are things he knows he should forget. The tired smile or the way his eyes would light up when Garrett made a joke. The kiss. That more than anything. 

But there are other things he shouldn’t forget. The things Anders made him realise and if he put them from his mind it would be selfish in a way Garrett doesn’t know if he could ever justify. He remembers the conversation they had back when they first met and how he’d asked what he could do to help with Anders’ cause. He’d just told Garrett to talk about it. It doesn’t feel like enough compared to everything Anders is doing. But if it’s the least Garrett can do then he should do it. Not keep it all to himself because it hurts. 

And the thing is... once he’s done and he’s told Rose about the work Anders is doing, being careful to leave out anything too incriminating, he sees the look on her face and it doesn't hurt so much. For a Circle mage, Rose has it good and they both know it but they also know that all it would take is one small change, a new templar in place of the one she reports to, one who isn’t quite so sympathetic, and it all could change. She might not be willing to ask for more than she has but Garrett sees the tentative hope in her expression when she hears about Anders’ work and he knows she wants it all the same. 

It’s a small thing. Garrett sees that and he knows it’s not enough. He could do what Anders asked of him, keep living the way he has been and keep talking without ever lifting a finger himself to help. But he’d always be thinking about Anders back in Kirkwall actually working to help mages who need it. Anders has given him a new perspective that has nothing to do with his own feelings for the man. Thinking about it now, there’s never been any going back, not from the moment they met. Garrett thinks his own hurt might be a small thing to have to live with in order to do some good in this world. If that’s what it takes then he’ll accept it. 

It doesn’t take him long after that to come to a decision. When he does, he calls his sisters and Marian is the first to pick up so it’s her he tells. He goes back to that table on the stone patio outside the cottage and waits only about a minute into the conversation before he announces, “I’ve bought a ticket to come back to Kirkwall.”

Marian’s voice comes through on the other end of the line sounding… well, he hadn’t expected her to be jumping for joy because it is Marian but to hear her, you’d think he’d just announced his decision to find a nice place in Tevinter and settle down. “You’ve what?” she asks quietly and he doesn’t think for a second that she’s misheard. 

“It can’t be that surprising. I always come back at some point,” he tells her because wanting to come back and see his family again after a few weeks away is normal. Completely normal.

And yet, Marian is having none of it. “Yeah, last time it took you a year. This time it’s not even been a month.”

Garrett figures the best defence against that sort of logic is just to deflect. “Honestly, it’s like you want me to stay away. You were the one who was always going on at me about running away from my responsibility to the family and now I’ve finally started to consider the possibility that maybe you were right and you’ve gone and changed your mind? Really?”

“I’m not always going on about anything,” Marian retorts. “That was one time.”

“Okay. ‘One time’ when you told me exactly how you’d truly been feeling for years then. And, seriously? I just said the words ‘you were right’ and you’re not even going to gloat? Marian what’s wrong?”

Garrett hears Marian’s sigh of frustration and doesn’t quite have time to wonder if it’s just Marian being Marian or if he’s done something wrong before she says, “Maybe this time I thought you had a good reason for leaving.”

Which is even more unlikely than Garrett’s own ‘you were right’. Is this really happening?

“You said that every time there’s some aspect of my own life that I don’t like I run away and deal with other people’s problems instead.”

It had been quite a nasty argument. Garrett remembers the words well. They’d been ringing in his head ever since, getting quieter over the years but never quiet enough to forget. 

“It doesn’t matter. This time was different. What you were doing with Anders… you were always going to get hurt by that. It was good that you decided to get out when you did. The time away was supposed to help you clear your head. Help you get over him.”

He doesn’t know where to begin with that: the way Marian is suddenly able to simply skip right over the biggest rift they’ve had between them for years as though she doesn’t even see it; or the part where since Garrett started thinking of reasons to come back, he’s been trying really hard not to think of why he left in the first place. Marian may speak bluntly but her words cut like something sharp. Intentional or not. “Okay. Yeah, well…” he starts and stumbles a little, trying to remember what he’d been telling himself before the call. It had all seemed simple enough then. He’d come to a decision and he’d intended to stick to it whether that was difficult or not. “It’s fine. I already did that. The first part, that is. Consider my head clear.”

“And the second part?”

The second part strays into territory he isn’t willing to think about just yet, if ever. “Not important. I’ll figure it out. But look, I’ve decided to stop running away. From now on, I’m going to face my problems head on. To stand my ground and fight… like Anders does.” And once again, in his efforts to be convincing he realises he’s let far too much slip. “I didn’t actually mean to say most of that out loud. I swear that wasn’t meant to be as dramatic as it sounded.”

“Oh really?” Marian laughs, not particularly nicely. “Wonderful. Because it sounds to me like you’re a total fucking idiot.”

“Hey!”

“I’m not saying it to be a dick okay. I’m saying it because Anders has barely got any of his own shit together. He is not someone you need to take as a role model. In fact, that is the last thing either of you need right now.”

Garret doesn’t reply to that immediately. He’s used to Marian and her inability to admit she cares about people without covering it up in a layer of insults but Garrett finds it far easier to brush off when directed at himself than he does with Anders. “You’re not being fair to him again. Why am I not surprised?”

Marian’s reply is impatient. “Shut up, Garrett. That’s not it. The timing is really bad. And… ” he hears her take a long breath, “there’s something I need to tell you. I haven’t known how...”

It’s not just the words but the tone in her voice that makes all of Garrett’s annoyance drain out of him. “What? Is Anders okay?”

“Not really,” Marian says quietly and her voice sounds strange without any trace of anger or sarcasm in it. She tells him plainly, “Karl died. Last week. So, no, he’s really not doing that well.” 

He processes the words and doesn’t know how what she’s telling him can be right. Last week? Why wouldn’t he know about something like that? And yet there’s no way he can have misunderstood. “What happened?”

Marian recalls a story of how she, Fenris, Anders and Bethany had gone out in search of Karl. Anders, hoping to save him. Marian, fearing it may be too late. She tells him how they’d found the bodies of his victims. And then how she’d been right, when they found Karl himself, all but lost to his demon.

“Anders saw the whole thing. He hasn’t really talked about it since but from what little he’s said, it sounds like he’s blaming himself.”

Of course he would. He’d wanted so badly to save Karl. He’d wanted it so much that Garrett had thought he’d do it by the sheer force of his will alone. Or maybe that was just a convenient thing to believe. Something that allowed Garrett to walk away without having to think about what he was leaving behind. 

He hadn’t even considered things could go so horribly wrong in the short time since he’d left.

Last week… Anders had been grieving and blaming himself since then and Garrett had been blissfully unaware. He frowns, even knowing Marian can’t see it. “So… you just weren’t going to tell me this before I called you?” Garrett asks. He doesn’t say it loudly but he knows Marian will hear the quiet force behind his words. 

“I was hesitant,” she admits. “I figured you’d drop everything and come rushing back here.”

“Of course I would!” That he says loudly. “Why would you even try to stop me?”

“I just don’t think it would do any good. I know the two of you got on but do you really think he’d be more willing to talk to you than to Beth? Because he’s not saying shit to her.”

“You said he talked to you.”

“Yeah, because I surprised him by showing up half dead at his clinic one night. Now he’s pretty much back to ignoring anyone who isn’t one of his patients.”

“I…” And because they’ve been arguing about Anders he almost keeps doing that. It takes a moment for what she’s said to sink in. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Anders healed me.” She brushes the question off. “I’m fine. It really doesn’t matter.”

She says it in such a way that he knows he won’t get anything else about it after her. But he can ask someone else when he gets back. Because he is going back. “...Alright. Look, I’m still coming. I’ve got to try… something. At the very least, the more people he knows he has who care for him, the better, right?”

Marian sighs. “I know I’m not going to convince you otherwise.”

He still doesn’t understand why she wouldn’t want him to. What reason does she think he could ever come up with to justify staying away when someone he cares so much about is going through something like this. 

“Why do you really not want me to come back?”

He expects Marian to be reluctant to answer but she’s as blunt as she ever is. Garrett really shouldn’t be surprised. “You were pining over him when he was with Karl,” she says and there’s something in her voice, like she’s at least trying to be gentle, “even when you were just looking for Karl. I know you thought you were hiding it but we all saw it. Now Karl’s gone. But not in any way that’s going to make it work for the two of you. I just don’t want you to do anything that will end in you getting hurt. So I just think you should stay away. Do what you were going to do and get over him. I honestly think it’s the best thing you can do for yourself.”

He doesn’t know what she expects him to say to that. He doesn’t know if he should be annoyed at the thought of her putting his own feelings before Anders’, or touched that she openly cares about them at all. In the end it doesn’t matter. He’d made his decision before even having this conversation. He tells her, “I get what you’re saying. But I can’t. I’m done just looking out for myself. I’m coming home, Marian.” 


	32. *yearning intensifies*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate chapter title: _Would you like some comfort with that hurt?_ Yeah... they're both bad. Stupid chapter titles are making a return in honour of these characters just really needing a break from all the angst. This one probably could have benefitted from another glance over but the temptation just to post and move on to the next chapter is winning out. Hopefully there aren't too many mistakes. Thank you all for reading!

The plane ride between Redcliffe and Kirkwall isn’t a particularly long one. It almost takes Garrett longer just to get his luggage back after the flight. This time it’s just Marian who meets him at the airport, looking stern and disapproving at his refusal to take her advice. Except, on Marian, ‘stern and disapproving’ mostly looks like ‘hostile’. It really does take an expert to distinguish between her many scowls. 

“So…” she begins as they’re pulling out of the airport car park. “‘Home’, you said. That’s got to be a first.”

It’s stupid that he feels embarrassed, especially when it’s Marian. But he does, a little. “Yeah… I guess it finally started to feel that way.”

“Only took you ten years.”

He turns his head to look out of the passenger window, taking in the grey cityscape stretching out before him. It doesn’t look like home from here. But then it wasn’t the buildings that brought him back.

“Is it bad that I couldn’t make myself feel that way when Mum and Carver were alive?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Oh, great. I’ll take that as a yes then.”

There’s the smallest of smirks playing on Marian’s lips when Garrett looks around at her. So maybe she was just teasing. But When she speaks she sounds serious. “It wasn’t exactly a yes… I understand where you were coming from. It didn’t feel like home because Dad wasn’t there. It was just that you not being there either didn’t make it any easier on the rest of us.”

Garrett groans. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have asked. And now you’ve got it all figured out and there’s no need for me, is that it?”

Marian snorts. “Hardly.”

“I know I can’t really make up for it…”

“Garrett. Don’t. Whatever I’ve said in the past, I know you’re not a selfish person. In fact, nobody thinks that about you.”

“So you’re glad I came back?”

Marian gives him a begrudging smile. “I’m glad to see you. We’ll see about the rest.” Her eyes flick up to a sign post then back to Garrett. “You want me to drop you off at the clinic?”

Garrett doesn’t want to wait but he feels nervous at the thought of seeing Anders again. It’s a sort of dread that comes from Marian’s warning. What if Anders doesn’t actually want to see him? He’ll just have to accept it. It’s the only thing he can do but it’s still a nerve wracking thought.

“Yeah… I think I’d like to see him.”

“I have to pick up Bethany from there anyway… Maybe you can convince him to come back with us tonight.”

“Do you think so? You seemed pretty certain the other night that my presence wasn’t going to help at all.”

Marian shrugs one shoulder but Garrett can see from the stiffness of the gesture that she’s more worried than she’s saying. “It might. I don’t know,” she says and it doesn't make him feel much better about the situation.

Garrett sighs. 

Anders is with a patient when they arrive and there’s another one waiting to be seen. Garrett makes conversation with Lirene as he waits, while Marian takes a seat. After a little less than ten minutes the door to Anders’ office opens and the first patient emerges with Bethany following close behind. She takes one look at Garrett and her face lights up. “Garrett! What are you doing here?” 

“Hugging my little sister,” he replies with a grin and proceeds to do just that. “Is that so strange?”

“When you’re supposed to be in Ferelden, maybe,” says Bethany, hugging back.

Garrett doesn’t quite get a chance to reply to that before he hears footsteps. When he looks up, Anders is standing at the doorway to his office, looking more relieved than Garrett could have ever expected to see him in this situation. Relieved and almost overwhelmed. 

“What?” Garrett says, pulling away from Bethany and hesitantly approaching Anders. “Nobody mentioned I was coming back?”

“No one told anyone you were coming,” Bethany says pointedly.

Marian smirks. “I thought you might enjoy the surprise.”

Garrett stops before reaching Anders, seeing the uncertainty that replaces the surprise on his face. “I swear that wasn’t my idea,” he says with an apologetic smile.

Anders’ face does something Garrett can’t quite follow. But it doesn’t look good. Not based on the way he turns away with his eyebrows drawn together and seems to only just get out the words, “I-I’ve just got one more patient. Then… After…” He looks up at the stranger still sitting with them in the waiting room. “Would you like to come through?”

The patient stands and Anders turns to Bethany. “Beth, it’s up to you if you’d rather observe or stay out here.”

“I…” Bethany hesitates, looking between Anders and Garrett, before settling on a response. “This won’t take long.”

She disappears with one last apologetic look, into Anders office.

The door closes behind her. 

“I’ll admit it. That might not have been one of my better ideas,” says Marian dryly. 

Garrett is too busy staring at the door where Anders had been standing just a moment ago. He doesn’t know what to make of what just happened. The reaction had been so positive to start with… 

He shouldn’t have shown up here without warning. Not that he’d realised Marian hadn’t given any. It’s too late to worry about it now though. Anders said ‘after’. Without a word, Garrett sits and waits.

* * *

Anders can feel Bethany’s eyes on him as he works. That’s not unusual when they’re in the clinic together. He spends most days here teaching her so she can improve her own healing magic. But it’s not like that now. She’s obviously confused about his reaction to seeing Garrett a few minutes ago. Truthfully, so is he. It’s all he can do to focus his attention on figuring out the problem with his patient instead. 

Or, perhaps it’s more than he can do after all. He keeps trying to regain some of the focus he’s had all week. But it’s beginning to feel as though it shattered the moment he heard Garrett’s voice from the waiting room. And he can’t put the pieces back together like this. Not when he’s still reeling from the emotional impact of seeing him again. 

Anders doesn’t know why it’s affecting him so badly. But he’s spent the past few weeks working so hard not to feel anything. Perhaps it makes sense that every emotion he’s been trying to suppress would come through in full force the first opportunity it could. 

His patient frowns at him. “Is everything alright?”

“Uh…” Anders can’t seem to figure out the appropriate response. 

“Anders?” says Bethany. “Would you like me to take over?”

Anders looks at her and nods, accepting defeat. “Yes. It’s the… the spell we went through earlier.” 

“I know it.” Bethany smiles reassuringly at him, though there’s no missing the concern. “Why don’t you go and sit down for a while? You’ve been on your feet all day.”

He shakes his head. He should at least observe Bethany’s work. Not because he doesn’t trust her to get it right. But the more critique he can offer, the better she’ll be able to cast. Yet, stepping back only seems to make it more difficult to focus. Before he knows it, Bethany has finished with the spell and Anders can only assume she did a good job based on her confidence talking to the patient afterwards. She thanks Bethany and goes. Then Bethany turns to Anders with a worried frown and asks quietly, “Is there some reason you don’t want to see Garrett? I know he’s my brother but you can tell me.”

“What?” Anders’ surprise cuts through the disorienting feeling of too many emotions rushing him at once and not knowing which to fend off first. “No. Of course not.”

“Do you need a moment alone?”

That actually sounds as though it would help. He nods.

“Okay. I’m going to close up out there and send Lirene home. Just promise me you’re not going to try and work. You need a rest.”

He nods absently. He couldn’t work now if he tried. As she leaves, he goes and sits at his desk.

He can hear the muffled voices through the door, Garrett among them. He tries to tune it out but it’s difficult to resist the familiar tone. Anders had missed it more than he wanted to admit. Seeing Garrett again so unexpectedly is… strangely like it’s always been. No matter how much Anders tries to resist Garrett’s charms, spending time with him has always been so easy. So comforting. Every time Garrett looks at him, Anders feels the promise of that. Just then in the waiting room was no exception.

He’d almost let himself get carried away by it.

But what right does he have to do that? After everything?

The voices outside stop with the sound of the door closing. Have they all left? For a moment it seems that way. But then there are footsteps. A knock on his office door. “Anders?” It’s Garrett.

Anders remembers what it was like growing up a mage in the Circle’s children’s homes. By day it was drilled into him how the Maker despised him for his magic, with no real answer given for why, in that case, it had even been given to him in the first place. By night his dreams had often been plagued by demons who thought they’d find easy prey in a boy who had so little and wanted so much. It hadn’t really been an issue since his merger with Justice. And even before then he’d learned to shut those voices out. But he’d never forget how it felt. Temptation.

Being around Garrett is the most real it’s ever felt. Probably because he knows there can be no earth-shattering consequences for giving in. They might get hurt. But they’d get through it. Really the worst of it is that it just isn’t fair. To Garrett. To Karl. Even if Karl is only a memory now. Even if he’d more or less given his blessing. That doesn’t make it feel right. 

There are times when Anders wonders, if Karl hadn’t been so convinced that Anders and Garrett were better suited for one another, would he have fought harder against his demon? 

And there are times when he is sure that Karl was suffering for longer than Anders even knew and asking him to stay was only hurting him more. There had been no kindness in keeping him close as he slowly lost more and more of himself. No matter how he tries to tune it out, the guilt of his attempts to do so have never really left him.

But if there is anyone who could make him forget for even a little while it’s Garrett. It’s just like the kiss last time they saw each other. Anders knows he shouldn’t but he can’t help himself. 

Garrett knocks on the door to his office and Anders answers, “Come in.”

He looks up as Garrett pushes the door open. At first, he just pokes his head in, looking concerned and apologetic. He opens his mouth but the words are slow to come. “The others went out to get food. They’ll be coming back. I… If you want, I can go.”

“No. Garrett, come in. I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Hey, no! I really shouldn’t have showed up unannounced like that.” He’s still hovering in the doorway but he seems to finally notice that that’s what he’s doing and steps inside. He hesitates, then closes the door. Then he looks uncertain about whether he should have done so. It’s odd to see from someone who usually seems so confident. 

“It’s fine,” Anders says. “Honestly, I’m glad to see you. Though I know I may not have looked it a moment ago.”

“For about a moment you did. After that I wasn’t so sure.” It’s exactly what he looks: unsure.

“Right. I’m sorry. I... don’t know what that was,” says Anders, which isn’t quite true but he’s not sure if now is the time to go into that.

“I just wanted to say that I’m so sorry about Karl. I would have come sooner but I only just heard what happened.”

“Y-you didn’t come back just because of that, did you?” It’s all Anders can think to respond.

“I was already planning to. But even if I hadn’t been, I would have come. Of course I would. I know you’re not exactly alone but… I just want you to know I’m here. If it helps.” Garrett’s earnest expression is just as Anders remembers it. He doesn’t know if that’s comforting or if it’s just making him that much more conflicted. 

“You’re a good friend, Garrett,” he says softly. “Better than I deserve.”

“Hey!” says Garrett, crossing the room in a few quick strides. “Don’t say that!” He crouches in front of Anders’ desk. “You deserve so much better than this.” Garrett looks up at him and Anders has to fight to keep his own face from crumpling at the sight of it. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. When Garrett speaks again, his voice is softer. But it doesn’t make it easier. “Look, I know the way we left things a few weeks ago was fairly awkward but would it be okay if we just forgot about that? Because right now you look like you really need a hug. That at least I can fix, right? Would it be okay with you?”

It’s ridiculous how close to tears Garrett’s kindness brings him. Even as he looks across the table at him, Anders can already feel himself choking up. He nods. It feels like all he can do. Garrett pushes himself back up onto his feet and walks around to Anders’ side of the desk. He holds out a hand for Anders to take and when he does, Garrett pulls him up against him, wrapping his arms around Anders in a firm hug. 

Anders melts into it. He can’t maintain any distance like this, nor does he want to. He buries his face into the soft fleece covering Garrett’s brawny shoulder and then the tears come. Anders can’t hold them back.

“It’s okay,” murmurs Garrett as Anders’ shoulders start to shake. He smooths a comforting hand over them. “Just go for it. Take as long as you need.”

It’s the first time Anders has cried since the night Karl died. Garrett just lets him do it, holds him tight and strokes his hair. It’s awful. Anders feels so, so awful but Garrett is perfect through all of it. When Anders draws back, it’s not because he feels in any way ready to be free of Garrett’s arms but because there’s only so much pressing his face up against sodden polyester he can take. Garrett looks at him without speaking for a moment and Anders notices how different his expression looks from usual. He always seems to have a smile on his face. It’s his way of putting the people around him at ease and most of the time, it works. But he doesn’t bother with that now. The look he gives Anders is deeper than concern. He never sees him looking this serious. It speaks of how deeply Garrett seems to care. It’s too much. Anders turns on the pretence of grabbing a tissue from the box on his desk. He wipes his eyes then his nose. 

“Better?” says Garrett uncertainly.

“Maybe? I think I’m mostly just concerned for the state of your jumper.”

“Huh? Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve got layers. I only have to get rid of this one and then I’m good to go again.”

Anders chokes out a tearful laugh. “That’s alright. But thank you. I mean it.”

Garrett offers him a gentle smile. “Anytime. And I mean that.”

Anders just responds with an awkward nod. Out in the waiting room, the door opens and there is the sound of Marian and Bethany returning. “Good timing,” says Garrett with another smile. “Oh, hey. So the plan is, we’re taking you back with us tonight. You’re getting some food and a decent night’s rest and we’re not taking no for an answer.”

Anders has been denying similar suggestions all week from Bethany but he doesn’t seem to have it in him to argue with this one. He just nods. “Alright. You win.” 

* * *

“We can leave you to it if you just want to be alone,” says Bethany once they’re back at the house, “or you can join us. Just as long as you take some time to rest and relax.”

Anders looks between Garrett and his sisters almost sheepishly before answering, “Actually, I really don’t want to be alone.”

Garrett sees the truth of his words written plainly on his face and it makes him ache. He can’t know what it must be like for Anders to have lost the man he loved like that. But he has an idea. He watched his mother go through it and it never felt like she really recovered. Not while they were still in Lothering anyway. All he knows is Anders must be feeling so very lonely. Not only can he see it, but he felt it when they hugged earlier. 

He wants to say something reassuring but Marian surprises him by beating him to it. She looks Anders in the eye and tells him, “You won’t be.” To the point. But Garrett can see she means it.

Merrill has joined them by this point and she gets it right away; the reason why Anders looks as though he hasn’t slept in so long. When he says he doesn’t want to be alone, he means at all. He doesn’t want to sleep alone and she’s the first to offer her own room. “We could all go up there together. Make it comfy. And we could watch something on my laptop until we fall asleep. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

It’s obvious from the look on Anders’ face that he wants to say yes but he’s embarrassed by the thought of everyone making a fuss over him. “Merrill, that’s really nice of you but you don’t have to.”

“Hey, it sounds like a good plan to me,” Garrett begins, then promptly feels embarrassed at the display of eagerness to spend the night in the same bed as Anders. Normally he wouldn’t care. He’d make a joke of it. But given the circumstances it doesn’t feel appropriate. So he settles for covering up with. “I mean, if Anders isn’t up for it, I would be.”

Marian snorts. “Nice save.” He scowls at her. He didn’t mean it like that anyway. He knows Marian thinks he’s a masochist but she can’t think he’s so hopeless he’d want to share a bed alone with Anders knowing nothing can come of it. While sharing a bed with Anders and three other people hardly seems romantic. Not in this situation anyway. 

Still, Garrett doesn’t manage to look at Anders.

“I don’t think your bed is big enough for all of us anyway, Merrill,” says Marian and Garrett decides he’s relieved after all because it was a nice sentiment, yes, but probably a foolish one put in practice. But then Marian goes and adds, “Mine’s bigger.”

Garrett stares. Everyone stares actually because Marian is the last one any of them would have thought to go along with this. She shrugs when she notices the attention. “What? Sometimes being alone is shit. I get that.”

That’s how Garrett knows he’s misjudged her attitude towards Anders. He really hasn’t been around enough if he’s missed that. 

Somehow, it works. It takes a bit of manoeuvring, including a few elbows to the face, but eventually they fit. Even when Dog noses his way into the room and it doesn’t seem fair not to let him join them. 

“This really isn’t what I had in mind,” says Anders. “I need some leg room.” 

Dog looks at him and whines. 

Anders sighs. “We wouldn’t be having this problem if you were a cat.” 

Dog grumbles.

“Anders, stop picking on the dog,” says Marian, who is on Anders’ right, with Bethany tucked in between them.

“If he could just move over a little.” He sighs again. “Please Dog?” 

Dog barks happily and does as he’s asked.

“Such a good boy!” says Garrett, who is next to Merrill, who is snuggled up on Anders’ other side. 

“Don’t baby talk the mabari, Garrett,” grumbles Marian.

“Oh but he is a big cuddly baby!” Garrett coos.

“Why did I agree to this?” asks Marian. 

Bethany laughs. “You don’t get to ask that after offering the bed.”

“It’s a shame Isabela isn’t here tonight,” Merrill muses.

“It isn’t,” says Marian, just as Anders answers, “Not really.”

When Merrill looks wounded he adds, “We’re just already a bit short on room.”

“I suppose but…” she shrugs—well, half-shrugs, as that’s all there’s room for, wedged in between Anders and Garrett. “The more, the merrier. That’s the human saying, isn’t it? I think it’s quite a nice one, don’t you?” Anders gives her a small smile, like he can’t quite resist.

At least until Marian asks, “So what are we watching?”

And then Merrill cries, “Oh! I forgot my laptop!” and launches herself out of the bed, elbowing the two men on either side of her in each of their stomachs as she does so.

Then, suddenly, there’s no small, elf-shaped barrier between Anders and Garrett. And just as suddenly, Garrett doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s intensely aware of the space between them that could so easily not be there. He’d only have to move his arm a little. 

He doesn’t move. 

He stares up at the roof of Marian’s ridiculous canopy bed. Then he feels it, just the softest brush of fingertips against the side of his arm. He turns his head, mouth falling open in surprise. Anders’ head turns too. The look on his face is conflicted and in that moment Garrett understands. He thinks he feels the same way. Wanting but knowing the timing is all wrong. If Anders really feels that way, it’s no wonder he’s conflicted, that he isn’t ready. He’s still grieving. And if he feels even a little bit for Garrett as Garrett feels for him… Garrett knows he’d be feeling guilty in that situation. 

Now he knows why Marian warned him against coming back. None of this is fair. None of this is right. But he just… can’t seem to bring himself to regret it when Anders is there next to him.

If Marian or Bethany have noticed anything of this electric feeling between them, Garrett isn’t aware. He couldn’t say if they’re paying attention, or talking softly amongst themselves. He’s entirely wrapped up in Anders, as he turns his hand over so Anders can trace fingertips down over his wrist, to his palm…

And then the moment ends. Quite brutally, under the weight of Merrill—who Garrett hadn’t noticed coming back into the room—leaping onto the bed between them. “I found it! Oh, I’m sorry you two. Did I squash you?”

“No. No, I’m fine,” Garrett insists. 

“Yeah, same,” wheezes Anders, with more than a hint of irony.

“Are you sure?” Merrill wonders. Then her eyes get wide. “Oh! On my way back I remembered this wonderful documentary that would be perfect for watching before bed. I’ve seen it before so it would be alright if I fell asleep through it. Oh, but I suppose you probably wouldn’t want to do that. Should I choose something else?”

“It’s fine, Merrill,” Bethany assures her. “Put on whatever you like.”

“Really? Okay then. I think you’ll like it. It’s about gardening. It’s very soothing. Though I hope you won’t mind if it’s in Orlesian...”

They watch for a while and talk a bit as they do. Then they begin to drift off one at a time. Marian is the first to go, still propped up against a cushion with Bethany propped up against her. Then goes Merrill, curled up against Anders, using his chest for a pillow, followed by Anders himself. Bethany stays until the end of the film before sneaking away to her own room, always the sensible one.

Garrett doesn’t know if he can sleep. He could do the same as Bethany. It’s not as though he’d be leaving Anders alone. But he doesn’t want to leave him. He’s spent the last few weeks trying not to miss Anders and failing the entire time. Now Merrill is the only thing physically between them. Garrett wishes he could be in her place but if he can’t be, he’s glad Merrill can.

Especially when after a while, Anders starts to stir, his dreams becoming unpleasant. He twitches and moans. Garrett tries softly calling his name but by then, Merrill has woken up. She blinks groggily a few times then realises what’s going on. She shifts her weight onto one elbow then reaches up to stroke Anders’ hair. She smooths it out, removing the tie that’s half fallen out in the night. “Hush, lethallin,” she murmurs soothingly. “It’s only a dream.”

Slowly, with difficulty, Anders wakes. “It’s alright. You’re quite safe,” says Merrill. 

“I was… dreaming?” mumbles Anders.

“A nightmare by the look of it,” Garrett tells him. 

“Sorry,” Anders doesn’t look fully awake yet. He runs his hand through his hair. Merrill holds up the tie she took from him and after blinking at it for a moment he slips it onto his wrist. 

“It’s fine. Are you okay?” asks Garrett.

“Mmm…” 

“Would you like some water?” 

Anders nods and Garrett passes him a glass from the nightstand. He sits up and Garrett watches the way his hair falls around his face, soft blonde strands, clean from the shower he’d had earlier. Garrett tries to behave himself but he can’t help but appreciate the sight. Can't help but remember commenting on his hair. And then, later that night Anders had kissed him…

_ Stop it, _ he thinks.  _ Remember what happened after that? Get a hold of yourself! _

Anders passes the glass back to him, looking better already.

Merrill asks, “Could you roll over a bit? I’m sorry, your chest is just a bit bony to use as a pillow.”

“Ouch,” says Anders with a sleepy chuckle. 

“I am sorry! I think it’s just because I’m so used to Isabela.”

“No need to rub it in.” But Anders is already rolling over as he teases her. 

“That isn’t what I meant!”

“You’re a very lucky woman, Merrill. We all think so. Now go back to sleep,” grumbles Marian.

Anders smirks. 

“Oh, you’re all teasing me,” Merrill pouts. But she turns over, facing Garrett with her back against Anders’ chest and pulls his arm over her. Garrett doesn’t fail to notice how close his arm comes to touching Garrett’s own. He tries to ignore it. He’s surprised by how easily they manage to be so intimate. But then, if he didn’t have feelings for Anders, maybe it would be easy for him too.

Merrill looks at him. “Would you like a cuddle too, Garrett?”

“That’s okay, Merrill.”

“If you’re sure,” she yawns, eyes drifting shut.

Garrett glances up and expects to see Anders doing the same. But he’s not. He’s looking at Garrett and Garrett can’t breathe. He feels Anders’ long fingers reach out tentatively, questioningly seeking his. Garrett brushes back against them—then slips his hand into Anders’. He lets out a breath. 


	33. Now let's make it sad again

Garrett wakes to the sound of his phone buzzing lightly on the bed side table. He sees the dim blue light of early morning peeking through the cracks in the curtains and it feels too early but given that he’d been certain he wouldn’t sleep at all, he’ll accept what little rest he’s managed to get. Beside him, Anders and Merrill are still asleep, Anders’ face pressed against the back of Merrill’s neck. Garrett’s hand is no longer joined with Anders’ though he’s not sure which of them pulled away in the night. He feels foolish for his behaviour last night. He shouldn’t be doing this. Even if he doesn’t mean to take advantage of Anders in a vulnerable state, he still can’t help but feel like that’s what he’s doing. He shouldn’t have stayed. He should have left when Bethany did.

Suppressing a groan, he rolls over and picks up his phone to see the alert. A message from Bethany: _I’ll take care of the clinic today. Try and convince Anders to take the day off._

_I’ll do my best_ , he replies then shuts off the screen. 

He should probably get up.

He sits carefully but when he glances over at the others, while Merrill and Marian remain asleep, Anders is stirring. 

“What time is it?” he mutters.

“Uh. Seven-thirty-ish,” Garrett supplies.

Anders rubs his face and lets out a soft groan. “I have to go to the clinic.”

Time to put his promise to Bethany to the test. “Good news!” he tells Anders as brightly as he can manage without being too loud. “Bethany’s already on it. You get to stay in bed today.”

Anders’ face scrunches up in confusion. “What? No. That’s not her responsibility.”

“Beth seems to disagree,” says Garrett lightly. He tries to sound more convincing, “You’ve been overworking yourself. Take a day off. I’m sure Bethany can handle it.”

Anders almost looks tempted but he still resists. “I don’t know. I should…”

Whatever excuse Anders is about to make is interrupted. “Ugh! Shut up or get out,” Marian groans. “What is wrong with you?”

Garrett isn’t sure when the last time Marian saw seven-thirty in the morning might have been but he doubts it’s a regular occurrence. He smirks. Getting up, he says to Anders, “Go back to sleep. Seriously. I’m pretty sure Bethany’s got this.” He shoots Anders a smile then heads out of the room.

It’s not long before Anders follows him downstairs. Garrett looks up from his tea. “Don’t tell me you’re really that much of a workaholic.”

Anders shrugs. “I’m just used to getting up early. That was a lie-in for me… What’s your excuse?”

“Didn’t think I’d get back to sleep. So you’re not going in?”

“I suppose this is more or less what I’ve been training Bethany for.” Anders takes a seat and muses, “I used to love a day off… Haven’t had one in forever. Not since I got the clinic going in earnest.”

Garrett doesn’t know if he’s more appalled or more in awe of his dedication. “How?”

“Justice mostly. Working with the wardens was worse. We’d be in the Deep Roads for weeks sometimes. This job is cushy in comparison.”

Garrett shakes his head. “I want to say you have a point but, no. To say you’re overdue a day’s rest would be an enormous understatement.”

“What do I even do with an entire day?” Anders murmurs.

Garrett gets up, thinking Anders drinks coffee, right? He’s sure he’s said that before. He goes about making a pot, asking lightly as he begins, “What did you used to do?”

Anders’ face falls. Quickly, he tries to cover it up. “With the Wardens?” Garrett doesn’t think Anders was remembering the Wardens just then. “I think we spent a good portion of them at the pub. Can’t see myself doing that now.”

Garrett doesn’t reply. He feels like he’s already said the wrong thing. He makes the coffee then pushes the cup towards Anders when it’s done. “You don’t have to do anything,” he says finally. “But if you don’t want to spend it alone, that’s fine. I’m here. If you want me.”

Anders looks at him through wide, anguished eyes and after a moment, he simply nods.

* * *

“I don’t know if I can talk to you about Karl,” says Anders a few hours later. They’re still, presumably, the only ones in the house left awake. Merrill left only a short while ago, crying, _“Creators, I’m so late!”_ and Marian doesn’t tend to get up until past noon. Anders’ confession comes out of the blue.

“I don’t know if I can talk about him at all really. But what I mean is I don’t know if it’s fair.” Garrett frowns at him and opens his mouth to reply but Anders goes on, “It’s stupid. I’m probably overthinking it. You probably don’t even—”

“Anders—”

Anders looks at him seriously. “I just can’t help but feel I messed you around. I feel terrible about that.”

Garrett is sure that the last thing Anders needs right now is to feel terrible about him. Not with everything else he’s going through. So it had hurt... enough that Garrett hadn’t thought he could do this anymore. Enough that he’d tried to run. That hardly seems to matter now. “I never thought of it that way. And even if I did, I wouldn’t be thinking about it now,” Garrett tells him, meaning it. “You loved him. For a lot longer than you’ve even known me. I’m not holding that against you.”

Anders drops his gaze to his hands, folded in his lap and answers quietly, “I never thought you would. I just… don’t want to hurt you. You don’t deserve that.” 

Softly, honestly, Garrett says, “You can talk about whatever you need to with me. I mean it.”

Anders is still looking down at his hands instead of at Garrett. He fidgets, rubs his jaw and then draws his long legs up onto the sofa. He frowns and a long moment passes in silence before he starts to speak, “When I was in the Circle—I mean, the children’s home run by the Circle—we didn’t get to go out much. We used to have day trips where we’d get to go to the zoo or something like that. It sounds normal enough I suppose but it didn’t make any of it feel that way. It was just something the Circle could do to feel like they were taking care of us instead of simply locking us away from other, normal people. 

“I hadn’t been there long before I made a run for it on one of those trips. I snuck away when no one was looking and it took them days to find me. After they brought me back they stopped the trips altogether. They didn’t just stop me from joining in, they stopped letting everyone out. Told the others they had me to thank. After that, the only time we were ever allowed to leave the home was for the weekly Chantry service. I managed to escape during one of those a few years later but it didn’t get us out of that. They just started bringing more templars along. 

“Six years, and the only time I spent away from that home was the days, or sometimes weeks, I managed to sneak away. Even when I was eighteen and harrowed and should have been free to go, they wouldn’t allow it. Said I was too much of a risk.

“When I was older and I’d stuck around long enough to get certified as a healer, I got a job at a hospital and they finally let me get a place of my own. I still had to check in with the Circle and deal with random home inspections from the templars and all that but it was the most freedom I’d ever had. Karl and I…” Anders’ eyebrows knit together but he keeps going, even as his voice nearly cracks over Karl’s name, “We didn’t get many of the same days off but when we did we always just wanted to make up for the time we hadn’t been allowed to be normal. We’d go for walks, visit museums or just stay in together… It probably sounds dull to someone who’s been all over Thedas. But it wasn’t. It was the happiest I’d ever been. It was almost enough to make me wonder why I resisted for so long. Almost. I never stopped resisting, really, never wasted an opportunity to make things difficult for the templars. Or to heal people the Circle didn’t want me to heal… 

“It might have been far from an ideal life but when I look back at it, what I remember is being with Karl. Being happy with Karl… I never really stopped hoping I could get that back. Meeting him saved my life. I don’t know where I’d have ended up without him. The Gallows, probably. Or somewhere like it.” 

Garrett studies the look on Anders’ face, trying to figure out what Anders needs from him. Reassuring words seem unlikely because he doesn’t know what he could possibly say that might reassure. Touch seems like a possibility. Anders responded well to it yesterday. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t trust his instincts. He can’t when every one of them is to hold Anders close and never let go. He settles for sitting beside him. He has questions he thinks it might be okay to ask so he asks them, “How did the two of you meet? From what I heard, it sounded like he had the same sort of... upbringing as you.”

“He did,” says Anders quietly. “At the same home, in fact. But he was there before me. We didn’t meet until I turned eighteen. I was moved to a different facility, one for difficult cases. Karl worked as a counsellor there.”

Anders has spoken so little about his old life with Karl that it’s strange to think of him as a normal person with a normal job. Also strange because, should he have tried to guess how Anders met Karl, that would not have made the list. “A counsellor?”

“Yes. You don’t have to look so shocked. I didn’t seduce him if that’s what you were thinking… Not that I didn’t try.” He smirks but his eyes are still sad as he remembers. “He was the only person there I could stand. I’d expected him to be just like the rest but he was just as angry with the Circle as I was. Somehow he channelled it all into compassion. He helped people who needed it. He inspired them to make what they could of their lives despite the shitty circumstances. And somehow he did it without making us feel as though we were wrong to be angry. Honestly, I think it was a miracle they even hired him. It was not by any means a normal approach for people working in those places.”

Again it was so far from what Garrett had expected. He’d known what Karl meant to Anders but never to this extent. “So he encouraged you to become a healer?”

Anders nods. “But not at first. I was too used to being difficult. I’d been at this new place for a couple of months before I managed to escape again. When they caught me this time they put me in solitary confinement for a year. To show they weren’t messing around anymore.”

Garrett stares at him, appalled. “ Solitary…” _Solitary confinement_ . For a _year_ … He hadn’t even been aware that was something the Circle could do. Of course, it makes sense that it’s something they wouldn’t want getting out. For Anders to have gone through something like that… Garrett can’t even imagine it. 

“Yes… It was… well…” he trails off without finishing that thought. “When I got out, Karl was furious. But not at me. I’d never met anyone who was furious on my behalf before. I think I might have fallen for him there and then.”

There’s a wistful note to Anders’ voice as he remembers and it makes Garrett’s heart ache just to think of everything he’s lost. “What about him?” he prompts, curious but hoping the question isn’t too invasive. Anders seems to be doing well talking about all this but Garrett fears there will be a point where it becomes too much. 

But Anders answers and it seems like he’s still remembering the time fondly. “He never let on. Not until I was already well into my healer training and we started to grow closer.” He stops and looks at Garrett with some uncertainty. “Do you really want to hear about this?”

Garrett’s cheeks grow slightly warm. “I suppose I’m curious. I’m interested in knowing more about you. But I don’t mean to pry… it must be painful to talk about.”

“It… is.” Anders frowns. “But I never have talked about it before. Maybe I should. Well, maybe not all of it. I can leave out the sappy details.”

“You don’t have to force it,” Garrett insists. 

“I know… I wasn’t sure how I felt about it before but…” Anders looks at him and he says, “I know I can trust you.”

Garrett takes a shaky breath, trying not to let it show, to just look normal while the words do strange things to his insides. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what kind of reaction he can give that would be acceptable in this circumstance. In his typically awkward fashion he doesn’t answer at all. Instead, he asks, “When did the two of you get together?”

Anders surprises him by smirking. “You think it was some sort of sordid love affair, don’t you?”

“What, no! ...Was it?”

He snorts. Garrett smiles, relieved that Anders seems okay, that he’s comfortable talking about this. “No. Maybe? He was seven years older than me. I suppose that’s a lot when you’re twenty-two but I didn’t care. I loved him. He was all I could think about. When I started doing well in my training, started getting hopeful about the good I could do with it, I found I didn’t need him the way I had before. We became friends. Then once I was qualified and living independently—or as independently as any Circle mage could—I finally properly told him how I felt. He’d always brushed off my flirtations before. But he finally admitted to feeling the same.”

“That’s… really not that sordid at all.”

Anders smiles. It’s a sad sort of smile but still a smile. “All Karl’s responsibility, believe me. I would have enjoyed the scandalous love affair. Sneaking around behind templars’ backs, hiding in broom cupboards and all that. I did manage it sometimes, just not with Karl, unfortunately. I suppose it’s a good thing. I… I was going to say I wouldn’t have wanted him to lose his job over me. But you already know that part of the story.” Anders stops and the smile drops from his lips. “Karl saved my life… And I destroyed his.”

In that moment, Anders looks so profoundly sad Garrett can’t take it. He reaches out and pulls Anders against him. “No,” he says firmly. “After all this time you’ve spent decrying the Circle and the templars for what they did to you, why would you blame yourself for what they did to Karl?”

Anders shakes his head and pulls out of Garrett’s embrace. It stings but Garrett tries to understand. Anders leans forward, his head in his hands. “It was me. Every time. My decisions led to him being punished, while I got away unscathed. Every attempt I made to fix my mistakes made everything worse and yet I still kept going. I don’t even know what Karl went through all those years he was a vampire. He wouldn’t talk about it. I thought… I actually thought that if we were together we’d work it out. It wasn’t enough but I just kept pushing until it killed him.”

“Anders, look at me.” Anders shakes his head, sinking further into his grief. “Anders… I might not have been there at the end but I was there when you found him again. You gave him a choice. Decimus might have tried to take it away in the end but he made his decision. He chose you. And I know he was grateful you came for him, that you gave him that chance to see you again.” 

Garrett isn’t sure if the words are getting through to him. Anders seems to be listening but his frown only deepens, his mouth twists in misery. Garrett decides to try something else. “I know you need to grieve,” he says gently, “but dwelling on your mistakes isn’t helping you or anyone else. There are people who have done much worse who keep getting away with it. People who you’ve dedicated your life towards stopping. And I… I can’t tell you how much I admire you for that.” Anders goes still, clearly not expecting that. 

“It was the reason I came back,” Garrett continues. “Before I heard about Karl. I’d already decided that I couldn’t live the way I had been doing. Not after meeting you, seeing what you do, what you stand for. I came back because I wanted to help. Because I believe in your cause.” Anders raises his head, looking at Garrett like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Garrett wants him to believe it. He needs Anders to know how good he is. “I want to do what I can to help create a world where what happened to you and Karl doesn’t happen anymore. I know that’s still what you want too. But from what I’ve heard, the way you’ve been going about it lately, it sounds more like you’ve been trying to punish yourself than anything else.” 

The way Anders’ eyes close and his head falls forward tells Garrett he’s close to the truth. He tells him simply, “Take a break from it for a while.”

“What?”

The idea might seem absurd to Anders but Garrett insists, “Really. Your cause is still going to be there if you take a few weeks to process everything that’s happened in the past few months.”

Anders starts to shake his head. “Justice…”

Garrett stops him, saying with certainty, “Surely Justice can understand that you need to take basic care of yourself before you can save anyone else. He can’t keep pushing you to the edge of your limits.”

Anders’ gaze drifts to the floor and Garrett thinks he can see something almost guilty in that look. “I’m not sure if that was really Justice’s doing. Those last few weeks… I lost my way. I would have killed myself trying to save Karl. Justice was the one that kept that from happening. The reason I’ve been focusing so hard on the clinic isn’t because Justice has been forcing me to. It was just easier than facing what a mess I’ve made of everything.”

Garrett opens his mouth to protest but Anders shakes his head, stopping him. Then he says, “You’re both right. I’ve committed myself to something that’s bigger than me, or Karl. It’s time I remembered that.”

For all that it sounds like progress, Garrett’s not sure if that was the exact point he was trying to make. Above anything else, he still needs Anders to take care of himself. “I mean, yeah… but first, how about lunch?” He tries offering him a small smile. “Then maybe a walk? We can take Dog out. When was the last time you went to the beach?”

That definitely wasn’t a question Anders was expecting. He looks puzzled and frowns as he tries to think. “I… don’t really remember.”

“Well, it’s lovely. Well, no. It’s actually sort of depressing. Nothing makes me wish I was in Rivain like a trip to the Wounded Coast. But I’m sure the fresh air would do you good.” 

Anders raises an eyebrow, looking doubtful. “Lunch first?”

“Absolutely.” Garrett gets to his feet, mentally going over what they have in. Lunch. That’s something Garrett can actually do. It’s such a small way of helping but Maker knows Anders looks like he needs it.

“Garrett?”

He turns to find wide golden-brown eyes locked on his and nearly startles when he feels the brush of fingers against his own, just before Anders takes his hand and squeezes. “Thank you. Again.”

Garrett is about to brush it off but he sees the look on Anders’ face and smiles softly. “Don’t say it’s nothing, right?”

He knows that a few reassuring words aren’t going to be enough to lift Anders out of his grief but Garrett’s thankful that they seem to have at least interrupted the spiral of guilt he was sinking into just a few moments ago. He smiles at Anders and thinks he may be able to get that hug now. Garrett holds out his free arm in invitation. Anders hesitates only a moment before he gets to his feet and allows Garrett to gather him in his arms. “You’re going to be okay, Anders,” Garrett whispers. “And I know it can’t… It can’t make up for what you’ve lost but for what it’s worth, I’ll be here. And so will my sisters and Merrill. You don’t have to do any of this alone.” 

Anders doesn’t say anything but Garrett feels him hold on a little tighter. So he thinks it must be worth something. It’s a start.

* * *

There is a knock on the door to Fenris’ mansion. He would say that he doesn’t know the last time he heard that sound but it would be a figure of speech. The last time he heard it was the last time Hawke came by, so of course he remembers. It’s been weeks. But he hears the knock and thinks ‘Hawke’ and for all the times he’s told himself her absence is for the best, he cannot help the way his heart leaps at the thought. He feels hope. As though he’d wanted her to come back. After all the time he’s spent trying to convince himself of the opposite, he finally realises how he’s failed.

He doesn’t move when he hears the knock. In fact, he freezes. He’d thought she was staying away for a reason. Because if she’d not at least seen sense about their discussion then perhaps because she was angry with him. It wouldn’t matter. Better that she’s angry than at risk simply by being close to him. He should ignore it, he thinks, and if she won’t go then he should tell her that he has not changed his mind. He hasn’t… He doesn’t miss her. Hasn’t gone hours every night for the first week after she left listening out for that knock.

He hears the front door click open. He’s so focused it’s impossible to miss. That’s how he knows it’s not Hawke. Hawke would not simply walk in without invitation after leaving the way she did. At least, he very much doubts she would.

Immediately, he’s up, out of his seat and heading out to the entrance hall. Isabela is already half way towards him when he gets out there. Of course it’s her. He relaxes but that doesn’t stop him from glaring at her.

“So you were just ignoring me. Somehow I had the feeling that was the case. And now I know something is definitely wrong.”

“I wish you would stop doing that,” Fenris tells her. 

“Picking the lock? But how else am I supposed to talk to you when you won’t answer the door?”

“You could phone.”

“Would you answer?”

Fenris shrugs.

“My point exactly. What’s going on? You never come out with us anymore.”

Fenris turns and heads back to the sitting room. Isabela follows. He shouldn’t be doing this. Just because it’s Isabela and not Hawke, it doesn’t change anything. He is still a danger. 

Or a potential danger… if Danarius comes for him. Fenris sighs. He has to admit the company is welcome.

“Well?” says Isabela.

“I decided some distance may be wise.”

“Distance?” repeats Isabela sceptically. “Why? No, wait. Don’t answer that. Distance from Hawke, right? Now it all makes sense.”

Fenris raises an eyebrow. “Does it?”

“I’m surprised I didn’t notice. How long have you been sleeping together?”

He tries not to react in any obvious way but the question catches him by surprise. He knows Isabela notices how he tenses upon hearing it.

“That’s the reason you’ve been avoiding her, isn’t it? You might as well tell me now I’ve figured it out. Who made it awkward?”

“Isabela,” Fenris says sternly.

“ _Fenris_.” Isabela stares back, unrepentant. “You know this is classic Hawke, right? As much of an advocate as I am for not getting attached to the people you sleep with, I’m honestly not certain Hawke is cut out for it. She seems to be all for the principle of the thing but can’t quite make it work in practice. She sort of…” she pauses thoughtfully, “she tends to put so much effort into keeping people at arm's length that it sucks all the fun out of it. It becomes less ‘friends with benefits’ and more ‘friends with frustrating complications’. I cannot say I see the appeal.”

“She… does this often?” Fenris asks uncertainly. He’s somehow unable to help it.

“Well, I’m fairly certain she stopped actually sleeping with Anders years ago but the weird tension between them never really went away.” When she sees the look of surprise Fenris is unable to keep from his face at the mention of Anders’ name, she looks slightly sheepish. Though only slightly. She’s still smirking, after all. “I’m not supposed to know about that. Don’t tell her I told you.”

Fenris looks away, not liking the unwanted feeling the information has stirred inside him. Why should it matter to him who Hawke has been with in the past? “There will be no danger of that,” he replies stiffly.

“Oh no. Are you actually jealous?”

“Of course not. She is a free woman and may do as she pleases.”

“How nice for her that she has your permission,” Isabela drawls.

“ _Fasta vass._ You know what I mean.”

Isabela just smirks at him. “You don’t have to be jealous of Anders. I assume the reason she broke it off with him is because she didn’t return his feelings. But whatever is going on here, all this brooding and avoiding one another, I’m fairly certain it’s mutual.”

Fenris fights back against the part of him that wants to ask what Isabela means and what Hawke has been doing or saying in the past few weeks to make her think such a thing. It doesn’t matter. He has no right to ask after her.

“I hope that is not true,” he says quietly. “Whatever you might think, it cannot be.”

Isabela groans. “Oh please. Do you have to? Instead of being all self-sacrificing, can’t you just get over yourselves and so we can go back to normal? Hawke’s been in such a mood lately. It’s incredibly dull.”

“No,” says Fenris. He glances at Isabela and sees her raised eyebrow at his blunt reply.

“Why?”

“Danarius. One day he will come for me, of that I am certain. When that day comes I will become a threat to you all. It is better that I find some other way of stopping him.”

“What other way? Hawke already agreed to help you. She’s a hunter, a bloody good one, and she’s on your side. Where are you going to find another opportunity like that?”

“I will think of something. Danarius is not the sort of vampire Hawke is used to fighting. He is old and powerful and if he finds me, I may be forced to fight against her.”

Isabela is frowning at him now. “This was all the case months ago. What’s changed?”

Fenris hesitates. “I know her too well; her strengths, her weaknesses. I… would not like to think of her coming to harm at my hands. No… I… I couldn’t stand it.”

Isabela stares. “Okay… so you like her. You really like her. Wow… But it’s not like she’d be fighting alone.”

“And if I killed any of you? Would that be preferable? For that, she would kill me herself.”

“No, she wouldn’t.” Isabela sighs. “But she would probably blame herself for it and become completely insufferable. I can see your point. Look, it doesn’t matter. Hawke will figure something out. Maybe you just have to find Danarius before he finds you. Lure him out somewhere for Hawke to kill.”

Fenris shakes his head. Can she not understand that it would not be so simple?

Clearly not, as she persists, “I’m meeting Hawke for patrol in an hour. Come with us. You can talk it over and come up with a plan.”

“No.”

Isabela looks annoyed. “Now you’re just being stubborn.”

“I have given my answer and you have not given me sufficient reason to change it. 

“Yes. Because you’re stubborn.” She sighs. “Have it your way. But just think on it, will you?”

He makes a non-committal noise. 

At that, she throws up her hands. “Okay, fine! I will leave you to your brooding, self-imposed isolation for now. But we will talk about this again.”

Fenris can see there is no talking her out of that belief. “I look forward to it,” is his dry response. They will have to see who is the more stubborn out of the two of them.

Isabela snorts and throws him an exasperated smirk as she heads for the door. And Fenris goes back to his brooding, self-imposed isolation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter we're finally getting into a new story arc. There's lots of fun stuff to come, including action, drama, more angst and romance! I'm excited to share it so I hope you'll all enjoy! Thank you all for reading and for leaving comments and kudos. I always appreciate it!


	34. Burn it down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from Burn It Down by Daughter. It always makes me think about Anders (not hard to do, I know). I'm pretty sure I meant to use it for the previous chapter to fit with Anders' recollections of his time in the Circle but I completely forgot. I think it fits with this chapter too, though. I hope you'll enjoy it. As always, thank you for reading!

The day everything falls to shit starts normally enough—or at least, it starts with what has recently begun to pass for normalcy. A month or so ago, Marian would never have woken up in the early afternoon and gone down to the kitchen to find Anders helping himself to coffee and toast. But in recent weeks it has been known to happen. At least once a week, Bethany takes over at the clinic and Anders gets a day off. 

Not that Anders seems aware of what to do with a day off, if the great pile of papers on the kitchen table, settled around Merrill’s laptop, are anything to go by. But he seems content enough. Which is really saying something given that things have been pretty awful for him lately. For all the Hawke siblings’ attempts to make it less awful, Marian knows the sort of pain Anders is going through isn’t going to go away easily.

Still, it says a lot when she shuffles into the kitchen, scowling and not ready to be awake until she’s at least had some coffee, and Anders smiles at her. It’s just a small smile, along with a “Hello, sleepy-head,” but it looks genuine. Marian sips the coffee he pours for her and considers this. 

“What exactly is all this?” she asks, gesturing to the mess on the table.

“I’m catching up with the modern age,” says Anders, causing Marian to raise an eyebrow, “It’s my manifesto. Merrill lent me her laptop so I could type it up. That way I can send it to people and maybe they’ll actually start to take it seriously.”

Marian looks at the papers, then the laptop, then Anders and says, “And you never thought to do this before because…?”

“Well, I haven’t had a computer since I worked at the hospital back in Ferelden. And I’ve always been so busy it never occurred to me… And it was Garrett’s idea.” Marian snorts and Anders gives her a weak smile. “He offered to do it for me, actually.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Anders gets this look on his face that pretty much confirms he’s just as smitten with Garrett as Garrett is with him. Marian isn’t even pissed about it anymore. The whole thing feels as though it’s been inevitable from the start. Now the only question is whether Anders is holding back out of respect for Karl or if it’s the same sort of noble sentiment that made him break things off with her all those years ago. 

If it’s the former, she understands. It’s been little over two months since Karl’s death. Anders is still coming to terms with it. But while she warned Garrett before against getting involved in the aftermath of that, she’s starting to wonder if she might have been wrong. As far as she can see, Anders’ feelings towards her brother are entirely genuine. And she suspects he’d begun to feel that way before they’d even come close to finding Karl. Not that she’d ever tell them but she might even approve. They seem like they’d make each other happy, anyway.

If it’s the latter then Marian will be seriously unimpressed. Because, to be quite honest, she’s had enough of the men in her life being noble, self-sacrificing idiots.

“Where is Garrett, anyway?” she asks after a moment.

“Varric called a little while ago. Said Norah rang in sick so he’s gone to cover her shift.”

Marian nods. It’s not unusual for Garrett to pick up the odd shift at The Hanged Man when he’s in town. Varric doesn’t care about the legality of hiring mages and has the sense to know that being one doesn’t affect how well someone can pull a pint. As long as they’re careful there’s no reason the templars should find out about it. If Garrett can make the job a bit more permanent that might be a good idea. Since it seems like he’s staying now. And they could probably use the income.

Marian goes back to her coffee and Anders goes back to his work on Merrill’s laptop. The afternoon is uneventful until suddenly, it isn’t. 

Marian gets a call from Garrett.

“Marian, are you at the house? Is everything okay back there?” His panicked tone sets Marian immediately on edge. Garrett is so easy going about everything that just to hear him like this she feels like she knows even before she asks, “Yeah? What is it?”

“Someone just—one of Anders’ regular patients came in. Said there’d—there’s been a raid on the clinic…” Marian’s blood turns cold before he even says it. She can’t speak to make him spit it out but it only takes a moment for him to continue unprompted. “It was the templars. They’ve arrested Bethany. Marian, I—I don’t know what to do.”

“Are you certain? This person—this patient. Who was it? Can they be trusted? Have you tried calling her?”

“I tried. I couldn’t get through. And I don’t know. He just showed up saying he knew Varric and Anders are friends and that we needed to get a message to him.”

Marian doesn’t answer. Her thoughts are racing, going over the options, trying to think of some way to get Bethany away from the templars. Her first thoughts are the most violent. She would kill anyone who dared to hurt her family. She won’t lose any more of them. She will not lose Bethany, who has never done harm to anyone. How could they take her? And how could Marian have let it happen? She knew this was always a possibility if Bethany took up work at that clinic. And yet Marian had held her tongue and let her go anyway.

She doesn’t notice Anders’ arrival until he’s right in front of her. His face is all concern as he asks, “What happened? Hawke, tell me. What’s wrong?”

“The templars have Bethany,” she answers without thinking. “They raided the clinic and took her.”

Anders pales. “No…” he whispers.

On the phone in her ear, Garrett says, “Is that Anders? You need to tell him to get out of there. I don’t know what the templars know but there’s always a chance they’ll come searching the house now. Get him to come to The Hanged Man and we’ll think of what to do next.”

Marian barely hears him. Her attention is fixed on Anders, whose skin has gone from pale to flecked with blue, cracks of light covering every inch of him, pulsing as though the fade itself is trying to burst out of him.

“I have to go,” Marian tells Garrett and hangs up without waiting for a reply.

Anders’ expression goes from pained resistance to pure rage as he loses the battle to maintain control over the spirit inside him. “Where have they taken her?” Justice demands in a voice that echoes with barely contained power. “We will retrieve her and kill any templar who stands in our way.”

Marian has seen Justice’s outbursts before, at least a handful of times. It will begin with Anders losing his temper and end with him forcing the spirit back under his control. She’s only heard stories about what Justice can really do; Garrett’s account of what happened the night they found Karl and Anders’ own quiet confession about the templars who’ve died at his hands. She’s never actually seen Justice in action. She’s always hoped she never would.

Right now, she wants to.

Whatever Justice thinks those bastards who took her little sister deserve, she wants to see it carried out. Not only that, she wants to help. Marian would let the entire Gallows burn if it meant she could get Bethany out unharmed. 

But even as her blood boils with fury to rival even that of the fade burning in Anders’ eyes, she knows it won’t work like that. She can’t expect to rescue Bethany simply by taking out anyone who stands between them. She has to be smarter than that. So does Anders.

“No,” she tells him.

“No? You would try to stop me?” says Justice, enraged. 

Marian glares up at him, too angry herself to be as frightened as she probably should be. “Yes. I am trying to stop you. You think marching over to the Gallows and killing every templar on sight is going to save Bethany? You’d be lucky not to get her killed. Or yourself killed, for that matter.”

“Then what do you propose?”

Marian blinks in surprise at the question. So he can be reasoned with? That’s reassuring. “I know things look different to a spirit but you have to think. People in the real world aren’t going to see you killing templars and think that’s justice. They’ll see an abomination. And they’ll think they were right about mages all along. You need to let me handle this. Let Anders come back.”

“That will not suffice. Every last templar should die for their abuses! If you are for the plight of mages—”

“Shut up!” Marian screams. “You think I’m not angry? I’m fucking furious! If you think you’re mad about this, trust me, it’s nothing compared to what I’m feeling right now. That’s my little sister they took. I’m angry enough I could tear them to pieces with my bare hands!” She stares Justice dead in the eyes, breathing hard and wanting him to know how much she means it. “But that won’t help Bethany. So I’m going to keep that urge to myself and come up with a plan that’s actually going to work. If you want to help then stay the fuck out of it. Let Anders come back.”

“Anders hears you.”

“I don’t care. Let him speak.”

A moment passes and then the blue spark goes out of Anders’ eyes. He doubles over as he adjusts to being back in control of his body. He looks back up at her, eyes round with worry and fear. “Hawke, what do we do?”

She almost sighs her relief. That’s one less thing to worry about. For now, anyway.

“You’re going to find Garrett at The Hanged Man and the two of you are going to lie low until we know the templars aren’t after you too. You’ll need to talk to Merrill and make sure she does the same. I’m going to find out what happened to Bethany.”

Anders gapes at her. “That’s it?”

“What do you suggest?” Marian snaps, her eyes blazing. “Besides storming the Gallows and killing anyone who isn’t locked in a cell?”

Anders winces. “Look that’s… you’re right there but it doesn’t mean we can’t do something. The Mage Underground have freed dozens of mages from the Gallows.”

“What, at a moment’s notice? Without any planning or preparation?” Marian gives him an impatient look. 

“Well, no…”

“Like I said… I’m going to find out what happened. Then we can think about what to do next.”

“So you’re just going to waltz into the Gallows, demanding answers?”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Anders looks annoyed with her now. “Even though you’ve been hiding unregistered mages for years? They could arrest you too!”

“They won’t. I’ve done enough for this city. Anyone who recognises the name Hawke knows I’m the only one keeping Kirkwall’s vampire problem from getting completely out of control.”

Anders shakes his head, disbelieving. “You’re that confident?”

“No. Didn’t Justice say you were listening earlier? I already told you. I’m furious.”

* * *

Bethany took the car to the clinic when she left this morning so they call Isabela to pick them up from the house. At The Hanged Man, they meet with Varric. Isabela leaves alone to find Merrill. Varric and Hawke leave together for the Gallows. Anders can’t stand the sight of them driving away. It feels deeply wrong to let them handle this alone, and yet, he can’t fault the logic that him going anywhere near the templars would only make things worse. Even going to the clinic to assess the damage might well get him caught.

The clinic… Anders feels a wave of misery that rushes seamlessly into anger. The place he worked for years building from nothing into a sanctum for those who needed it most; in one night they've destroyed it, leaving the desperate with nowhere to turn. Anders has to stop. He fights back the anger. “Not now,” he tells Justice. For Bethany’s sake they need to let Hawke take the lead on this. Then they can figure out the rest. 

Anders can feel Justice’s impatience. He’s sure the feeling must be coming from the spirit because Anders thinks he agrees with Hawke on this one. As angry as he is, the idea of going to the Gallows himself is a terrible one. He just wishes he could do something.

He looks at the darkened doorway to The Hanged Man’s kitchen and pushes past his conflicted thoughts to remember that Garrett is inside. There is one thing he can do because Garrett must be sick with worry. At least he can be there for his friend.

He pushes open the door and Garrett’s right there. He’s standing in front of the sink with a pile of dishes that he’s presumably supposed to be washing. But rather than doing so he just seems to be staring at them. 

“Garrett,” Anders calls to him softly. 

Garrett blinks back to awareness and looks up at Anders. A faint look of relief comes over his face. “You came. Good. I thought… I wasn’t sure if the templars…”

“It was a good call,” Anders assures him, catching his meaning. “I don’t know if they’re going to search the house but if they are we got away on time.”

Garrett has his hands on the side of the sink, fingers gripping tightly to the hard metal surface. “Anders, your clinic… I...”

Anders goes to him, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about that. Right now I’m more concerned about you and Bethany.”

He sees the way Garrett’s frown deepens and how the bones of his fingers show white through his skin as he grips the sink’s edge. He wishes he hadn’t said it.

“What will happen to her?” he asks quietly.

“I’m not sure exactly. I… I assume they’ll want to put her through the Harrowing… Hawke’s gone to see what she can do. Maybe she can delay it. And I’ll talk to the Underground. We’ll find some way of getting her out...” 

Garrett looks at him. “The Harrowing… Would Bethany…?” 

His dark eyebrows draw together into a deep frown as he tries to get the words out but Anders understands. He lets out a breath. He can’t lie to Garrett, not about this. “It’s bad. And it’s… terrifying. Bethany… she could do it. She’s strong and a competent mage. I can’t see her being swayed by any deal a demon might try to make with her. But even so, I wouldn’t want her to have to go through it at all. We’ll find some way of getting her out of it.”

Garrett looks almost lost in thought. Anders is not sure if he’s ever seen him looking so subdued. “My dad told me about the Harrowing. When I came into my magic. He’d never really spoken before about why we kept away from the Circle, it was just something we had to do. When we found out I was a mage, he sat me down and finally explained it to me. He used to work for the Circle. He was one of the mages that supervised the Harrowings. If an apprentice took too long in the fade then he was the one to be sent in to kill the demon and bring the mage safely back. Only so they could be locked away until the Circle decided to let them try again.”

“I remember,” says Anders quietly. Then, with slightly more bitterness, he adds, “Though my own Harrowing worked a bit differently. I passed and they locked me up all the same.”

Garrett’s look is sympathetic. “It was my dad’s whole life for a time. Harrowing after Harrowing. One scared apprentice after another. Until he couldn’t take it anymore. He met my mum and they wanted to get married but her family were against it. So they just took off one day. They left for Ferelden and never looked back. He said when we were born, me and Marian—and then Bethany and Carver—he never wanted any of us to go through that. So when Bethany and I got our magic he taught us to control it. To keep it secret and never let the Circle or the templars find us. I never questioned that it was the right thing to do.”

“It was,” says Anders, maybe a little too firmly. “The Circle control every aspect of your life they can get their hands on. You would have hated it.”

Garrett looks right at him and Anders can see that he believes it. But then he frowns again. “Beth always wondered about it. Circle mages live restricted lives but they don’t have to hide what they are. She always said it sounded so much simpler than living the way we did. At least until she met you. She told me about you long before we ever met. I think she was inspired by you, by everything you were doing to fight back against a system that had treated you so badly. I was impressed that you’d changed her mind. I already wanted to meet you, even then.”

The admission comes out of nowhere and Anders blinks as his mouth drops open slightly in surprise but then he offers Garrett a small smile. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

Garrett shrugs, returning the smallest and briefest of smiles. “It was worth the wait.”

And like some sort of love-struck youth, Anders swears his heart skips a beat. He forces the feeling down because now isn’t the time but he still can’t believe how Garrett has the power to make him feel this way after everything that has happened. Nor does he quite know what to do with how much it hurts to keep resisting him.

Garrett says, “If we got Bethany out somehow, she’d have to run and keep running. It would be worse than it was before because they know who she is now. And they think she’s some sort of criminal. Beth! Who’d never hurt a fly! I couldn’t imagine her living that way. I don’t know if that’s something she’d want. I just… don’t know what to do.”

Anders reaches out to place his hand on the back of Garrett’s. “I’m sorry, Garrett. It never should have been Beth they found there.”

Garrett turns finally, slipping his hand out from under Anders’ and grabbing onto it tight. “So it should have been you?” he asks fiercely, in a way that makes Anders’ breath hitch. His eyes burn with a strange sort of fire, familiar but out of place. Maybe it’s a Hawke thing, drawing Anders in as efficiently as ever. But as he tries to fend off the thrill of Garrett reacting so vehemently to the thought of Anders being caught in Bethany’s place, Garrett seems to think he’s spoken too harshly. The fire goes out of his eyes and he loosens his grip but instead of letting go, he slips his fingers between Anders’ and holds on. “It shouldn’t have been you. It shouldn’t have been anyone.”

“You’re right,” says Anders, trying not to sound as breathless as he feels. “But if it had been me they’d probably all be dead now. Courtesy of Justice. I’m angry enough that it seems preferable.”

Garrett stares at him and there’s that spark in his eyes again, or the ghost of it. Anders sees the anger he’s always covered up until now. He’d almost regretted the words after speaking them because Garrett is kind and good and whatever he might like to believe, Anders is not those things and he’s just admitted it then and there. But Garrett doesn’t look put off by it. He’s as thoroughly accepting of him as he ever has been and it is so not the time to be thinking of how sure Anders is that Garrett still wants him too. It’s just that when he looks at Anders like that, it’s difficult to think of anything else.

Anders opens his mouth, to talk, or maybe just to breathe, he isn’t sure, and suddenly Garrett looks away and whatever he might have said dies on his tongue. “I bet Marian agrees with that statement,” Garrett says, instead of whatever it was he’d actually been thinking.

Anders swallows uncomfortably and then his lips twist into a bitter smile. “Yes. Yeah, she definitely does.” He doesn’t want to think about that though. He already feels guilty enough about it.

He watches Garrett’s face change again and Anders assumes his thoughts have returned to Bethany because he looks suddenly crushed. The feeling in Anders, drawing him towards Garrett becomes a different sort of feeling and Anders can’t hold this one back; he can’t see any reason to. He pulls Garrett into a hug and he goes easily into the embrace. He lets go of Anders’ hand to fold his arms around him, pressing his face against Anders’ shoulder. Anders brings his hand up to the back of Garrett’s head and smooths his hand palm over his short dark hair. 

“We’ll figure something out,” Anders tells him. “If she doesn’t want to run we’ll think of something else. There’s no way we’re going to let those bastards keep her.”

Garrett’s only response is to hold on tighter. He doesn’t have to speak for Anders to know what he means by the gesture. He felt the same, every time Garrett comforted him after he lost Karl. He’s grateful too, just endlessly grateful that they have each other. And he’s becoming more certain all the time that that feeling isn’t going to dislodge and slip away. He’s not sure yet what that means for them but Anders knows it means something. Sooner or later, he’s going to have to examine that.

* * *

When Marian and Varric make it back to The Hanged Man it’s well into the small hours of the morning but though the bar is closed, the doors locked, the lights dimmed, the place isn’t quite empty. They walk inside to find Garrett, Anders, Isabela and Merrill sitting quietly around a table, a half empty bottle of something alcoholic between them. Marian’s eyes go straight to the barely touched glass in Anders’ hand. He takes one look at her and hands it over and she downs the contents in one go.

“Marian?” Garrett prompts. He’s tense, Anders can see it in the way he holds himself. 

Her eyes flick towards him then away. She grits out the words, “They have her. They’re going to Harrow her. No, we can’t see her until after they’ve done so. If she passes there will be a trial but nobody will say how long that’s going to take.” She looks at Anders. “They wouldn’t tell me anything about what she said to them but they didn’t ask me anything about you. I assume that means she took responsibility for running the clinic herself. But it’s probably best if you keep lying low until we know for certain that they aren’t looking for you.”

She’s not sure if she has the energy to tell them anything more than that. How she’d stormed into the place, demanding to know what they’d done with Bethany. Or how when they’d figured out who she was talking about, they’d done exactly as Anders had predicted and attempted to arrest her too. It had taken a lot of smoothing over from Varric and intervention from Aveline to get them to release her. The Templar Captain had been dragged into it too and Marian had been right about one thing; her reputation is known in this city and it still carries some weight. The captain had authorised her release. But not Bethany’s. 

“Hawke,” says Anders, his brown eyes wide and distraught, “I’m so sorry. She shouldn’t be the one taking the fall for this.”

“No. She shouldn’t,” Marian snaps. “But since I can’t see her to remind her of that, I suppose it hardly matters.”

And of course there’s no possible way that Garrett can leave that alone. “This isn’t Anders’ fault. The entire system is fucked up. Anders and Bethany were both just trying to do the right thing.”

Marian doesn’t want to hear it. It pisses her off how calm Garrett manages to be. Shouldn’t he be more angry about this? She’s so angry she’s almost shaking. She’s pretty sure that if she tries to talk she’ll only start shouting so she keeps her mouth shut and shrugs stiffly instead. Spying the bottle at the centre of the table, she grabs it and refills her glass. She tries to ignore the feeling of eyes on her but catches Anders’ gaze by accident. He looks devastated, like he’s taken the implication of her words completely to heart. It’s enough that she feels guilty seeing it but she can’t seem to make herself apologise. 

“I have connections,” Anders says quietly. “People on the inside. We can get a message to her. Find out what she wants us to do.”

Marian nods. That’s a good place to start. Possibly the only thing they can do until they know more.

She looks up and sees everyone around the table staring at her with varying levels of pity and remorse. All except for Garrett, who’s just staring into his empty glass. 

She doesn’t think she can take it, them all looking for her to be the one with answers. In that moment she’s so sick of having to take charge. She just wants her little sister back. That shouldn’t be something she has to fight for! 

Marian downs her drink, sets her glass on the table, then tells them, “Varric was there. I’m sure he can fill you in on the rest. I’m… I need to get out of here.”

“Uh… are you sure that’s a good idea right now?” asks Varric. “Wandering around Kirkwall alone in the middle of the night isn’t exactly the safest thing you could do, even for you.”

“I’ll second that,” says Anders, his tone severe and it’s obvious he’s thinking about all the times he’s had to patch her up after doing just that. 

“Relax. I’m not going to start picking fights I can’t win. I just need some air.”

Garrett looks uncertainly between them, seeming to realise they know something he doesn’t. “Marian?”

“Just leave it. I’m going to walk home, that’s it. I think I can handle that much on my own. I have to handle everything else that way.”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth she knows she shouldn’t have said it. But she’s too angry to make herself apologise. She can’t deny that in that moment, it’s how she feels. So she just looks away and mutters. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” before letting herself out.

She doesn’t go straight back to the house. She definitely goes in that direction to begin with, her legs carrying her without having to think about it. When she finally takes notice of her surroundings, they’re familiar in all the wrong ways. This is Fenris’ street.

She hasn’t seen him in two months. For all she knows, he might not still even be in Kirkwall. So why here? Has it really become that much of a habit to seek him out when she’s upset or angry? Why him? He doesn’t even want her around. And out of all the people she knows, he’s the only one who seems to agree with the idea of locking mages up simply for existing. 

_Fucking hypocrite,_ she thinks.

And then, _Hawke, you’re an idiot._

She turns to leave but doesn’t make it more than a few steps before she realises she’s not alone. She doesn’t even have to look up to know it’s Fenris. That’s how attuned she’s become to his distinctive presence.

“Hawke?” he says. 

She turns and there he is, clad entirely in black, face in shadow under the hood he uses to hide his white hair but she still makes him out easily under it. He’s so beautiful it makes her want to scream. If that even makes sense. It’s not fair. She doesn’t want to have to feel like this, to have her heart leap in her chest at the mere sight of him. This wasn’t what she signed up for when she agreed to help him.

“I was just leaving,” she tells him.

Fenris looks at her like he’s trying to figure something out. Then he simply asks the question aloud, “Why did you come?”

“Trust me, I have no idea,” she answers even though it’s at least partly a lie. She begins to turn, meaning to walk away.

“Hawke, wait.”

“What?” she sighs.

Fenris frowns at her. “You seem upset.”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing to do with you.”

He’s still frowning, still trying to figure her out. Marian stays where she is and realises she doesn’t want to go nearly as badly as she’s trying to convince herself she does. She tells him, “The templars took Bethany. They arrested her.”

When he says, “I’m sorry, Hawke,” she knows from the look on his face that he means it. “What are the charges?”

“Apostasy. Illegal use of magic. For healing sick people for fuck’s sake. And they’re treating her like a criminal.”

Fenris has taken several steps towards her. “Is everyone else...?”

“They’re fine. They found her at the clinic. Anders was home with me… I can’t help thinking that if he’d just been there none of this would have happened. Even if they’d found him, he’d have wriggled out of it somehow. But it was Bethany they caught.”

Fenris’ expression is grim but there is no pity there. No judgement. It’s a lot easier to look at than any of the expressions the others had been wearing. At least until she remembers their last conversation. Then she has to look away.

“I shouldn’t have come. I don’t know why I did.”

She hears Fenris take a breath. Then he says, “Come inside, Hawke.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she says, her voice coming out harsh in a sudden rush of annoyance. “We’re not supposed to be friends, remember?” 

It takes him a while to answer. She looks up and sees him staring seriously at her. Eventually, he sighs. “I remember. But I would not turn you away when you are in need.”

She makes a dismissive noise. “Charity then?”

His eyes turn hard. “You know that isn’t it. Nor is it because I owe you, though indeed I still do.”

That makes her feel something. Though whatever it is, she can’t say because it manifests in a strange sort of irritation that makes her turn and storm in the direction of his house. She strides ahead until she reaches the front door and waits for him to let her inside. 

Once he does, it’s strange how familiar it feels, passing him as he unlocks the door and gestures for her to enter. The place has gathered a fair amount of dust since she was last here. She thinks about the things that were said that night and there’s a part of her that’s still angry about it but the larger part doesn’t seem to care right now. Because the truth is, she’s missed him. And while she’s managed to go months without admitting that, tonight she doesn’t quite seem able to keep up the pretence. 

He comes into the room behind her and Marian gives herself a moment before looking up. 

The look Fenris gives her is a mixture of concern and regret and Marian doesn’t know which part of that she wants to think about less.

What is it he thinks she wants from him? What is he even willing to give after turning her away the way he did that night? She doesn’t know how to ask. He spoke as if it was so obvious but he was the one who didn’t want her here. What is it she’s supposed to know?

“It’s been a while,” she mutters struggling for something to say. “I wasn’t sure if you’d still be here.”

Fenris shrugs one shoulder. “Where else would I go?”

“Right…” she frowns. Why is this so hard? They haven’t known each other for long but in the short time they have, Marian had become used to feeling as though she could rely on him when she needed someone. She’s not even sure where that feeling came from. It was just being around him. But not like this. There’s a tension between them now and she has no idea how to get around it. She wonders if Fenris feels the same.

She looks at him and takes in the furrow in his brow, the tense line of his lips and his eyes flick up and catch her staring before dropping away once more. 

“I…” he begins. “That night…”

But that’s not really what she wants to hear either. She doesn’t need any more of his explanations. She can’t take them right now. “Fenris, I really don’t want to talk about it,” she tells him. “I don’t want to do any of this. I... don’t want to think about the future. I can’t even bring myself to think about today.”

He gives her a strange look and there’s a sort of understanding in it that grabs whatever shattered thing might be residing there in her chest and squeezes. “Is there anything you do want?” 

_You…_ she thinks.

_...Fuck._

She watches him and can’t be sure how much of that realisation gets across to him. His eyebrows draw together once again but he doesn’t look frustrated with her now. Just unsure, of himself or her, she can’t tell. 

She takes a step forward and he doesn’t move away. “Yes,” she answers and wills him to understand as she takes another step closer.

“Hawke…” he says. She thinks for a moment that he’ll tell her no but then it’s as though he’s been holding himself back just as surely as she has with him. He reaches for her and she leans in, kissing him. “Hawke,” he breathes again against her lips and the sound and feel of it make her shiver. She captures his lips again wanting nothing but the feel of them and of his body pressed against hers. 

It's not quite the same as last time. They’d been drunk then and while Marian still feels some effect of the shots she’d swallowed down back in The Hanged Man, the walk and the surprise of finding herself once again in Fenris’ house have sobered her. Though she feels as though his kisses might be well on the way to undoing that.

She’d had herself so convinced last time that she'd get it all out of her system in one night; the attraction and the connection she feels with him that’s unlike anything she’s known before. But all it did was give her more to want. Of course it did. She must have been a fool to think otherwise. Yet, here she is again. And like this, she doesn't have to think about it. It all just boils down to a feeling that’s better than anything she’s had since the last time she held him. 

Fenris pushes her jacket back off her shoulders and it falls to the ground. And when her back hits the wall and Fenris’ hands and mouth are still on her she knows he’s wanted it as much as she has. 

“I’ve been thinking about you, about this, every day since you left,” he confesses. He's not looking at her. His mouth is on her neck. No teeth, just lips grazing the skin she bares as she tilts her head back with a sigh. Maybe that's why she feels able to be honest. 

“I would have come back if you'd asked.” 

“Hawke,” he pulls back and looks at her finally. “I couldn't.” And even with eyes dark with desire he managed to look broken up about it. Fuck. She doesn't want to think about what that means or what reservations he still has. She’d just wanted a distraction. She just wanted a way not to have to think about the day she’d had. Or the last two months, for that matter. 

She tells him, “We’re not thinking about that now.” She doesn’t want to think about it ever but at this moment she’ll take what she can get. 

“No,” Fenris agrees and he reaches for her again.


	35. Comfort/Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My alternative title for this chapter was 'It's overwhelming how much I hate everything but you' from the song Angsty by Best Coast but it felt a bit too wordy. It's a good measure of Hawke's feelings at this point in the story though. I'm sorry if anyone was hoping for smut in this chapter. I tried to write it but it just wasn't happening for me. I did manage to figure out where I wanted the last scene to end up though so you get a sort of continuation. I hope you like the chapter. Thank you all so much for reading!

She hadn’t intended to fall asleep with him. Truly, she hadn’t meant to stay here at all. Or to come here in the first place. She hadn’t intended any of it. But it kept happening. Or perhaps she should be honest and say that she kept choosing it.

She could have walked away last night, before or after the ‘distraction’ she’d so convinced herself she needed. She just hadn’t been able to make herself do it. She’d looked down at Fenris, naked and tangled in a set of dark grey sheets in an even darker corner of the room and felt as though she was being held in place by the sight of him. She could make him out by the lyrium lines on his skin, each swirl marking another contour that she’d spent the night familiarising herself with. Her body pressed to his, his mouth, his hands all she could feel, all she wanted to feel. There’d only been the faintest of light to see by but it had been enough to catch off his markings. Even in the dark he was beautiful and it doesn’t make her angry anymore. It just makes her ache.

She’d realised then that it wasn’t a distraction she was looking for but comfort. She didn’t want to go back to that house not knowing when or if Bethany would return to it. But there was Fenris and her skin was still warm from his touch, still tingling in places, and wouldn’t it be something to not have to walk away from that?

Comforting. It would be comforting.

She’d crawled back into the bed and kissed him again.

This morning, she looks over and sees him still sleeping and thinks about the empty house waiting for her and makes no attempt to move. Not even to put an arm around him as some part of her seems to want to do.

She’s here isn’t she? Isn’t that enough?

And it’s comforting.

Why him? She wonders about it, not for the first time. Of all the people she knows, when things fall apart, why is he the only one she can stand to be around? She barely knows him. All she has is the feeling that somehow that doesn’t matter with him. They understand each other in a way she can’t put into words. She wishes that made it easier. It feels as though it should. But no…

Fenris remains asleep. She shifts closer to him and closes her eyes.

When they awaken again at the same time there are no lazy morning kisses traded, no whispered words of affection. Fenris looks at her and she sees her own uncertainty reflected back at her. For a moment she wonders why she didn’t run while she had a chance. Then she answers her own question. She hadn’t wanted to leave. She takes a breath then tells him in a quiet voice. “Thank you for letting me stay.” 

He seems surprised by her gratitude and maybe it is strange. This is a strange situation. “It is as I said… I could not turn you away when you needed me.”

To the further surprise of both of them, she snorts. “Right. That was definitely all it was about.” When he raises an eyebrow at her, she elaborates. “We fucked, Fenris, and as far as I remember, you were having a pretty good time yourself. Don’t tell me it was just because I needed you.”

He smirks at her then. “I’m certain you said something along those lines.”

Marian feels her face heat up but it’s a pleasant enough feeling. Just seeing his teasing smile makes her feel a lot better about the situation. 

“I guarantee you that wasn’t what I said.”

“The words were there,” Fenris insists.

“You’re taking them out of context.”

“Ah. The context where you were begging me not to stop, you mean?”

He might have her there. She has no comeback as her mind flashes back over the previous night. How good his hands had felt on her… and his mouth. Andraste’s tits, some days it’s all she can do not to think about that mouth. 

Perhaps her thoughts show on her face because there’s something in the way he looks at her that’s different now. Something that makes her think his thoughts have strayed in a similar direction. It’s confirmed when a moment later, they’re reaching for each other once again. 

Eventually, she knows she has to leave. The other mages are staying away from the house for now lest the templars come investigating. Their displacement will hopefully only be temporary but it isn’t something they can ignore. She needs to go and check on them and to talk to Anders about the letter he plans to send to the Gallows.

As much as she wishes she didn’t have to think about—that she could spend the day curled up beside Fenris instead.

She doesn’t know what’s going to happen when she leaves. There has been no talk of this being any more than a one time thing. Marian isn’t even sure if she knows what she wants it to be any more. 

“When I go… What happens? Do we go back to the way we’ve been this past month or…”

Fenris frowns. “What do you want to happen?”

Couldn’t he just be the one to answer that? It’s hard to think of the last time she’d put herself out there and been rejected by him. If anyone is going to be painfully honest, shouldn’t it be his turn? He looks at her, green eyes intense even in the darkened room and she remembers last night again. The things he said… he’d thought of her every day since she left. He’d told her that. Had she ever been as honest with him?

“I want to go back to working together at the very least.” Seeing the troubled look on his face, she adds, “I know there are risks but I intend to be careful. We already have Varric listening out for any sign of Danarius. If he comes for you, we’ll know. We’ll think of a safe way to proceed then.”

“Caution may not be enough… But I regret the way we left things that night.” He sighs. “I don’t know the best way to proceed.”

“We were doing fine before,” she insists. “Just patrol with me tonight.”

He thinks about it. Slowly, he nods. 

It’s a small thing. It far from fixes the situation they’ve been thrust into but at the very least it provides a small measure of comfort.

* * *

As promised, Anders turns that day to his contacts in the Mage Underground. They get word to Bethany who confirms most of their suspicions; that given the chance, she would not try to run. She seems determined to cooperate and attempt to get out based on good behaviour somewhere down the line. Marian hates it. They all hate it but what can they do? They can’t force her to leave. Bethany asks them not to try to contact her again until after her Harrowing later in the week.

While Marian and Aveline have managed to keep the templars at bay so far, she doesn’t trust them not to raid the house at some point. So Garrett and Anders have been staying at The Hanged Man, while Merrill stays with Isabela. Marian isn’t sure how necessary a precaution it is but they keep it up all the same, meeting at The Hanged Man to discuss what they can do for Bethany now. They can’t contact her but they can still plan an appeal. Anders thinks they may be able to pull it off with the help of the Mages’ Collective—a group with slightly less infamy than the Underground. If Bethany agrees to it, they’ll go public with her story. With enough support they may just win the appeal to save her. They can only hope the people of Kirkwall will be willing to listen.

For all Marian might complain about her siblings, she hates how quiet the house is without them—and without Merrill or even Anders. She’s spent her days since then sleeping and her nights out with Fenris and the time in between at The Hanged Man, or with the television on loud so she doesn’t have to think. She hasn’t been back to Fenris’ house in the past week. There’s still so much uncertainty between them. It just doesn’t seem like a good idea. But they agree, at the very least, that they have no wish to go back to ignoring each other.

Marian doesn’t sleep the night of Bethany’s Harrowing. She doesn’t try. Instead, she waits up with her phone at her side, terrified that it will ring but desperate to know at the same time. She doesn’t know how long it will take. She’d tried to ask but received no definite answer. Apparently there wasn’t one. 

Garrett hasn’t been back since Bethany was arrested and it’s that night he chooses to return, clearly not wanting to leave Marian alone. He falls asleep on the sofa with Dog snuggled up against him. 

After a few more hours, Marian hears someone come in through the front door and then Anders appears too.

“Have you heard anything?”

“Not yet.”

“She’s going to make it,” says Anders, with more certainty than she can bring herself to muster. “I’ve worked with her long enough to know what she’s capable of. There’s no reason she shouldn’t pass.”

It makes her feel a bit better. Anders has been through it. He came out the other side. She holds onto that thought. 

Eventually, he falls asleep too. Both he and Garrett are woken by the call the next morning. 

“She passed.” It’s the templar Captain, Cullen Rutherford. Marian doesn’t stop to wonder why he, of all people, would be the one calling her about this. She’s too relieved to think about it.

“How is she?” Marian asks.

“She’s still sleeping it off but that’s nothing unusual. The Harrowing can take a lot out of a mage.” Marian fights back the urge to sneer and make a jab at that comment. “She’ll be fine in a few hours.”

“When can I see her?”

“You can arrange for a visit tomorrow.”

“Why not today?”

“I am not certain she’ll be up for it. As I said…”

What have they done to her, Marian wonders in disgust. How can they think it’s normal to put mages through this?

“Fine,” she snaps. “Tomorrow then.” She hangs up not long after that. Only just managing to keep herself from being antagonistic. She hates that she has to worry about things like staying on the templars’ good side now but there it is. If she wants to see Bethany, she has little choice.

The other two don’t need to ask what happened. It’s obvious enough that the conversation would have been a very different one if she hadn’t passed but they still look at her expectantly. “He said she’ll be fine,” she tells them and doesn’t bother to keep the bitterness from her tone any longer. ‘Will be fine’ still means ‘not fine now’. That alone is enough to keep her furious.

“So at least that part’s over,” says Garrett with obvious relief. “She won’t have to go through it again.”

He’s only just woken up but it’s clear on his face how the past week’s worth of worry has taken it out of him. Anders must see it too, if the way he reaches out and grips Garrett’s arm in a comforting gesture is any indication. Garrett turns a grateful smile back on him. It’s strange to watch but Marian doesn’t really let her thoughts linger over it long. After a night without sleep, spent worrying over her sister, she’s exhausted and if she can’t visit Beth until tomorrow that doesn’t leave much to do but sleep. 

Glancing back at the other two, she doesn’t think they’re going to mind if she leaves them to it. She excuses herself and heads to her room to get some rest. 

* * *

Bethany remains in the Gallows for weeks without any word of a date for her trial. Marian is furious but there’s only so much her connection with Aveline and the Viscount can get her. The templars remain adamant that Bethany broke the law and that she’ll face punishment for it the same as any mage would, regardless of who her sister is. The only thing they can do is work on her appeal. Anders throws himself into it with such vigour that Marian starts to regret how quickly she leapt towards blaming him after the incident. But when she tries to tell him so, he shakes his head, “You were right, though. I should have just closed the clinic instead of leaving her there alone. I promised you I’d look after her and I let you both down.”

But Marian knows better than to blame him again. “It’s the fucking templars. That’s who’s to blame.”

Anders’ face hardens and Marian almost swears she sees a blue spark in his eyes. “We will stop them, Hawke.”

But for the rest of Kirkwall, there are more immediate threats than the templars. The vampires of the city don’t care that Marian could really do with a few weeks off. She’s been distracted and in that time there have been disappearances that usually mean vampires at work.

Varric calls her into his office one day with a lead.

“Remember that old mansion outside of town? The one Blondie’s guy had been hanging out in. I’ve been keeping an eye on it. Had a few of my people check it out every now and then…”

“Let me guess,” says Marian, “Isabela asked you to?” Isabela has mentioned Castillon only a few times since that night but it’s easy enough for Marian to guess just how much it bothers her that she has no way of knowing if her old associate is still alive.

“Right. The place was abandoned for weeks after Blondie got rid of the last lot. Only, last time my people went round there, it wasn’t looking so abandoned anymore.”

“You think it could be that Castillon guy?” Marian asks.

“I’m not sure. Slavers and vampires tend to keep to the same work schedules and I thought it better my guys kept their distance. Safer to send in a professional.”

“Which is where I come in, I’m sure.” She’d wonder if it was a coincidence but it seems unlikely. Besides, even if there is no relation to the last clan to reside there, abandoned buildings are the perfect place to find vampires. A place like that could get downright infested.

“You catch on quick, Hawke,” says Varric.

“You know how many are in there?”

“At least a dozen at a guess but it’s hard to say with such a big place.”

She’d better take a team then. Probably Garrett and Isabela. She doesn’t know if Anders will be up for it, given the place’s association with Karl. Fenris though… she could ask Fenris. She’s still not exactly sure where they stand with each other but they’ve talked now and then since the night she spent at the mansion. She’s even managed to coax him out on patrol a few times.

Garrett, Isabela and Fenris, then. She looks at Varric and thinks one more couldn’t hurt. “What do you think? Want to come along?”

“Sure,” says Varric. “It’s been a while since Bianca saw any action.”

Varric’s crossbow is a little conspicuous for the streets but on outings like this one, it’s perfect. Varric can take out a vampire without even having to get close.

Anders isn’t in when Marian gets back to the house and starts calling around to see who is available, so that saves one potentially upsetting conversation about why it might be better if he stayed behind this time. Merrill opts to stick around in case anything goes wrong and Anders needs to be tracked down after all. Marian calls Fenris before dark, which he isn’t exactly pleased about but he agrees that getting an early start will work to their advantage against whoever might be occupying the mansion. The day is overcast enough that with enough precaution it will be safe enough for him to move around sunset.

When she calls for him at his mansion, he answers the door without stepping into the light. He has his hood already pulled up over his head, with a pair of gloves covering his hands. Marian smirks before handing him a pair of oversized sunglasses. He raises an eyebrow, pausing for a beat before accepting them. “Not a word,” he says to her as he dons them. Then he ducks his head and darts for the back seat of the car. Marian follows him in then feels around her feet for the other precaution she brought. She offers him a blanket and can’t quite make out the look on his face behind the sunglasses. “That will not be necessary,” he tells her but she thinks she detects a hint of a smirk on his lips.

* * *

“Well, this brings back memories,” says Garrett once they reach the mansion. They’ve approached the building through the surrounding woodland since he insisted the direct approach they’d used last time had been a worse idea than they’d anticipated. “Look, there’s the tree Anders nearly burned down in a firestorm fuelled by what I can only assume was pure fury and righteousness.” He pauses. “Remind me never to get on his bad side.”

“Oh, I think you’re the last person in danger of that, sweet thing,” drawls Isabela and Garrett flashes her a smile that is transparently hopeful.

“Would you be quiet?” Hawke hisses. “If there is a hoard of bloodthirsty vampires around here, I’d rather avoid giving away our position.”

Garrett mimes zipping his lips closed. Fenris wonders how long that is likely to last. 

“I’m going ahead to figure out what we’re dealing with. Fenris, you’re with me. The rest of you, wait here until I signal.”

They approach the house with caution. It’s early and there are still traces of the day’s light dulled, though it may have been through heavy layers of cloud. It is normal for vampires to rest until full dark. With any luck they will have caught them early enough for a surprise attack.

Once they’re close enough, the question of whether vampires or slavers are occupying the mansion is easily answered. Fenris can make out the vampire’s distinct scent.

“Hear anything?” asks Hawke in a near silent whisper. Fenris shakes his head. It is as they suspected; however many are inside, they all seem to be sleeping.

Hawke pauses a moment longer, likely calling on her ability to sense however many may be inside. Then she gestures for them to return to the group.

“Here’s the plan: there are about fifteen inside as far as I can tell. Right now, they’re sleeping. We’re going to go in and take out as many as we can before they realise we’re there. Bela, you come in with Fenris and me. Garrett, Varric, you two wait out here for now. If they try to run, take them out. If it starts to sound like we need backup then follow us in.”

They each nod their willingness to follow Hawke’s instructions. Then Fenris, Hawke and Isabela move silently to the back door, where Isabela picks the lock. They wait a moment after it clicks open but there’s no movement from inside. They have not been discovered yet. 

Once inside, they work together, Isabela has a talent for stealth, while between them, Hawke and Fenris have the ability to hear and sense the vampires. They send Isabela, armed with a stake, into the rooms where just one vampire rests. There is at least one room where more sleep together. Hawke sneaks in along with Isabela while Fenris waits outside. 

They get through four rooms that way before Fenris hears the other occupants of the house begin to stir. Before he can warn Hawke of the others, one of the doors opens and Fenris is being attacked. It does not take long to take out the first startled vampire but by the time the first one is dust, several others have awoken.

It appears that the room they’ve happened outside is the master bedroom and the vampire inside, surrounded by several others, is the leader. It doesn’t surprise Fenris to feel the pull of magic in the air and realise the leader is a mage. He might have guessed it. What does surprise him is when her eyes lock on him in recognition. The woman would be unremarkable if not for the tattoo over her right eye and that alone is enough to make Fenris sure he has never seen her before. So she knows him by reputation. He should have seen this coming. Even after his attempts at caution, he has managed to walk into a trap.

“Leave that one alive,” the vampire woman commands her followers. “Kill the others.”

Even through his building rage, he manages to catch Hawke’s eye. She nods at him, understanding what he wants. The leader has information Fenris needs and they are to turn the instructions she has given back on her and her followers.

The fight becomes more difficult with a mage opponent but it’s nothing Fenris cannot handle. He fought plenty of mages in his time in Tevinter and knows how to avoid their attacks, using his lyrium when necessary. It helps that the woman isn’t aiming to kill but simply subdue him. Her attempts fail. Between them, Hawke and Isabela take out the followers and soon after that Fenris has the leader pinned to the wall, his hand clasped around her heart. “Make one move and I kill you.” 

She sneers at him but Fenris can see the fear in her eyes even as she spits at him, “Do it then.”

“Not yet. Who are you? Who sent you here?”

“If you’re going to kill me either way, why should I answer?”

Fenris tightens his grip on her heart, drawing a cry of pain from the vampire. “I can do it quickly or I can draw it out. It all depends on your cooperation.”

“Nobody sent me!” the vampire gasps. “My name is Grace. This manor belongs to my clan. Most of them were killed and those who survived ran. I came back to continue my husband’s work here.”

Hawke steps up behind him. “Your husband? Would that be Decimus by any chance?”

Grace’s eyes flash, fixing on Hawke. “You knew of him? Then you—”

“I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re thinking. Not that I would have been opposed to it. But a friend of mine got there first.”

Grace’s eyes widen in sudden rage. Fenris squeezes the muscle between his fingers, wanting her attention back on him. To kill a vampire, he’d have to destroy the heart completely but the intrusion still hurts enough to do what he needs it to do.

“You knew me on sight. Meaning someone must have told you of me. What dealings have you had with Danarius? Speak!”

The pain is enough to leave the vampire panting, her face distorting with agony. But she tells him. “I found him after Decimus was killed. And I asked for his help.”

Fenris loosens his grip slightly. He’s not completely satisfied but at least she’s talking now.

“Help with what? Fighting templars?” asks Hawke.

“Partly that.”

“What else?”

“Rebuilding my clan. In the south my kind are little more than wild beasts, scrounging for their next meal. In Tevinter, vampires have real power. The kind of power needed to destroy the Circle.”

Fenris snarls his disgust. “You would have Kirkwall become another Imperium, then?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I spent most of my human life in servitude to the Circle. Had I been born in Tevinter my life would have been vastly different.

“Danarius offered me his help. In exchange, he wanted his runaway slave returned to him. It seemed like a good deal.”

It’s as he thought. But part of it doesn’t make sense. “How could you have known I would come here?”

“I didn’t. I had no idea you would find me before I found you.”

“A coincidence? You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth!” Grace gasps with the compulsive tightening of his grip on her heart.

Hawke speaks up again then, “So your plan was to build a vampire army to destroy the templars, take over Kirkwall and live as kings? And when that didn’t work the first time, you decided to enlist the help of a Tevinter magister? Doesn’t that seem a bit excessive to you?”

Fenris hears the sarcasm in her tone and scowls. “This is no laughing matter, Hawke,” he chastises. 

“Oh, I have to disagree with you there. It’s a joke!”

Before Fenris or Grace can reply, Isabela steps in, “Perhaps before we move on to the ‘make fun of the captive’ part of the evening, we could try asking a few questions. Like about where Castillon fits in to all this. Or, well, no. That part’s clear enough. What I’d really like to know is if he’s still alive.”

“I don’t—” begins Grace but she is distracted by movement that Fenris can’t see. 

He recognises the voice that speaks up well enough, however. “Oh, lovely,” says Garrett as he joins the group. “How did I know we were going to come up here to find Fenris with his hand buried in some unsuspecting vampire’s chest?”

The distraction is short lived but it is enough for Grace to take a chance on. Without any warning of her intent, she sends a wave of magical force at Fenris. Instinctively, he makes his hand solid but the move comes too late to do any real damage. He wounds her but she manages to slip away as he’s knocked out of the way by the force of her spell.

Grace heads straight for Garrett, and the nearest window. As Fenris leaps back onto his feet, he sees Garrett try to react, feels the magic he summons to his fingertips, but Grace has beaten him to it. She casts the same spell she just used on Fenris and sends Garrett flying back through the glass behind him. 

And down into the garden an entire story below.


End file.
